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siriusmydeer · 3 years

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ron weasley smut alphabet

ron weasley x fem!reader

warnings: um this is all smut

a/n: i started at 4:45pm let’s see how long it takes. *update: it is now 10:20pm, my god*

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

he takes a bath with you, with small kisses. then after when you’re done he gets snacks for the both of you. you lay your head on his chest as he praises you.

“up, up darling.” he coerces you from your laying position on his four poster bed. “m’gonna make you feel all nice and clean, yeah?”

the you most you could give him was a small nod, all fucked out from previous rounds, hours prior. your body covered in splotches of red and purple. your hair all messy and your whole body flushed with a sheer layer of sweat.

he dips both of your bodies into the bath, cleaning up your body. “you’re so good f’me, dove.”

he continued to praise you as he dryed you off with a towel and dressed you in a pair of his navy boxer shorts and his freshly clean cotton-quidditch jersey.

he layed you on the clean sheets that had changed themselves due to his manipulation of magic. he rummaged around his trunk trying to find your favourite snacks and one of your favourite muggle films to put on.

“last i went to hogsmeade ‘ve got your favourites.” he mumbled grabbing the snacks sprawling them out at the foot of the bed crawling over to your worn figure and immediately curling your body into his side.

his hand found the root of your hair massaging his way down your hair playing with your tresses. “i love you, my darling.”

“so so good, all f’me.” he praised.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

UR MF BOOTY. ron is an ass man if u try and tell me differently bitch i’ll take u outside and tell u a lil SUM. yes ron appreciates your whole body, i mean molly raised him with a LIL respect but the thought of him just laying his head on your bum while your watching a movie and he’s just caressing it just makes his heart go 💞

“ronald, you know the point of watching a movie together is too actually view the movie together. not just smoosh your face into your girlfriends arse.” you said with faux-anger lacing your tone.

you were laying on your stomach in the room of requirement, the room giving you the ability to invision anything you like; a king sized bed with a plush white comforter and a massive tv fit to showcase any movie of your desire.

ron had some other priorities consisting of stripping off your sleep shorts and laying his cheek on your bum tracing the small stretch marks that glittered your sides. he thought you were utterly perfect and just appreciating and kissing your body was one immaculate way of showing it.

“m’simply just appreciating my beautiful girlfriend.” he teased, squeezing your bum. his eyebrows then furrowing. “and stop calling me ronald! merlin woman, you know how to drive a guy mad!”

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

whewwww the thiught of him cumming inside of your fertile velvet walls, the THOUGHT OF IT makes him hard. that man loves his creampies🙄

“m’gonna cum y/n.” he groaned, his calloused hands squeezing at your hips. your trembling fingers gripped at the sheets below you, arching your back more for him.

“s-sir, cum inside me, please.” you pleaded to the red head, moaning as he prodded at your cervix.

at your word, he let go; the ropes of his seed exploding inside of you, his vision starry and his body quivering. you whimpered at the feeling of him pull out of you; clenching around nothing and feeling desperate for his warmth again.

you felt his two dominant fingers push back inside of your clenching cunt, he spoke to you as he arched your back till your stomach hit the plush of the mattress.

“gotta keep you full of m’babies, understand?”

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

oh my god breeding kink, THE THOUGHT OF YOU FERTILE AND POSSIBLY GETTING PREGNANT IS LITERALLY HIS BIGGEST KINK LIKE ITS SO HOT TO HiM.

your back was arched against the plaid comforter covering the mattress below you, you moaned into the air coarse of tension and arousal as you let your release wash over your body.

the feeling of calmness and euphoria settled into your nerves as your orgasam came to an end, your boyfriend close behind.

soon enough you felt your rons cum shoot inside of your empty-feeling cunt, just waiting for him to breed you. he waited a moment before shoving his fingers inside of your stuffed pussy.

you whined at the feeling of overstimulation as his fingers got comfortable inside your clenching pussy. “aw baby y’gonna cry? better take my fingers like a good girl or m’gonna spank you.” he obeyed you as your trembling arm made its way to his arm, feeling pins and needles mixed with slight pleasure on your clit.

“you’re my cumdump, yeah? gotta make sure all m’babies stay in there. none go to waste.”

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

i feel like you taught him everything. i mean who else has he dated either it was lavender or nobody. so i feel like the both of you learned together and yk he got good FAST 💯

you were seated atop of his slack-clad thighs, slightly squirminn and circling your lace covered cunt over his clothed cock. you moved your lips towards his jugular, his adam’s apple bobbing at the feeling of your smooth lips dancing over the column of his neck.

“y/n.” he stated in hesitation, encasing his pale hands between your cheeks and bringing your face towards his.

“m’not sure.” he mumbled, deaf to your ears.

“what?” your tone lingered in the air confused at what he murmured, you lovingly carded your fingers into his bright red hair pulling at the strands.

you wanted him to feel comfortable in whatever he had to confess, so you waited patiently until he cleared his throat; a light crimson coating his cheeks as he diverted his eyes while he spoke to you.

“m’not sure- ‘ve never- never... y’know?” he said embarassed, his hands dropping from your face and into his lap. he looked in the direction of his lap as-well until your forefinger snuck under his freckled chin diverting his gaze into yours.

“no need to be embarrassed, love. we can- we can learn together?” you proposed to him, both of you quite inexperienced when it came to sexual instances.

“you’re sure?” he wanted to double check with you, before continuing both of your acts.

“positive.”

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

definitely riding or doggy. riding because he just adores watching you bounce on his cock AND he can grab your tits AND he can see your face AND he can watch your squirm; it’s like an all in one. and doggy bc he can push your face into the mattress and just watch your back arch perfectly. when he’s feeling particularly rough, he can just grip the root of your hair and pull to his hearts desire while smacking your ass. i’m mumbling now.

you were stat atop of the red heads cock as you feveroushly bounced close to your release, his hands darting towards your tits in a firm grip feeling your nipples harden in his palms.

his one hand drifting to your waist to encourage grinding movements while the other gripped the column of your throat feeling your smooth adam’s apple bob beneath his palm.

“you look angelic on top of me, angel.” he praised, following a groan as his cock twitched inside of you.

“daddy- please, can i cum? please let me cum.” you pleaded, almost out of breath from all of the movements you had been continuously making seated on top of him.

“go on darling— cum.” he started, taking a moment to groan as his own orgasam quickly approached him too. your body almost going limp, relying on his two hands gripping the sides of your waist to continue the grinding movements as his own seed shot inside your velvet walls. your moan high pitched as his low-groan in sync.

your body slipped off of his cock, and resting on top of his freckled pectorals attempting to catch your breath.

“my sweet girl, always so good f’me.”

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

i feel like he has his moments where he accidentally tickles you, or he might crack a joke or maybe an accidental head butt. other than that i feel like he’d be completely serious almost like he’s a diff person in bed.

he was moving at an unfathomable pace, his chuck buried into your cunt. the side of his face sunken into the column of your neck feeling his groans vibrate against your soft skin.

“fuck.” he groaned into you, as your arched your back into his clenched torso feeling his muscles rub against your bare skin. you released a moan in pleasure as his cock prodded at the beginning of your cervix.

his pace started to falter as he slurred into the shell of your ear, “want you to make a mess all over me, —my cumslut.”

he groaned again, as you released yourself all over his cock and throughly coating it.

you were drenched, this got him to his orgasam faster. “my messy little slut.”

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

question of the day: does the carpet match the drapes. i think yes. i think he’s shaven but not cleanly shaven like he doesn’t fully shave there’s still SOME hair there.

manz could not give less of a fuck if you just shave or if u havent shaven for a literal month he would fuck/go down on you at ANY time.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

at first i think he struggled because he didn’t really know how to make it special but his way of showing intimacy during the do is prasing you with small kisses and just very slow and passionate.

“beautiful, angel.” he murmured into the skin of your arched torso, moving his lips up as he continued with his praise and wet kisses.

“you’re so ethereal, my y/n. so beautifully layed out for me like this.” this time, he whispered into the skin of your breast bone suckling then leaving a small mark, before pressing a small kiss to it and moving up to to your throat.

“all to myself, my darling girl.” pressing small kisses under the shell of your ear.

“glowing like an angel.” this time the mumble of praise was against the skin of your inner thigh, sending a vibration into your skin.

“all mine. forever ‘n ever.”

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

either he does it to much or literally not at all. because he would much prefer your hands or mouth to his, he just feels like you know his body so much better.

“fuck— y/n.” he stuttered out with a groan. the sight of you on your knees for him, your hand wrapped around the girth of his cock and the other keeping yourself steady by holding his clenched thigh made his thoughts run wild.

“you’re so s-sexy— on your knees for me. just like that, fuck.” he moaned, head falling back jaw going slack in pleasure.

“knowing my weak spots so well.” he continued, precum leaking from his tip and his cock begging for a release.

you sped your pace, his prick spurting out his cum all over the hard would floor of his dormitory.

“ahh- fuck.” he groaned finishing his high.

“knowing my weak spots so utterly well, my darling. you deserve a reward, yeah?”

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

two words: size. kink.

that man has a literal FETISH at the fact he could throw you around at his will.

“would you look at that, dear?” his voice hoarse, and his eyes diverting to the bottom of your belly.

an imprint of his cock moving in and out of your pussy. his pupils blew with lust barely seeing his blue iris, grabbing both of your cheeks in his large hand moving your gaze to where he was erratically moving in and out of you.

he snatched your palm pressing it to yourself so you could feel him moving in and out of your cervix.

your back arched into him, a moan vibrations into his chest feeling so much full and so much smaller than his large body due to training from quidditch.

“it’s like ‘ve claimed you. all to myself.”

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

ronald billius weasley is a voyer at heart. so his favourite location would be the gryffindor common room couch right by the fire.

“shh— y’know i love your noises but if someone gets down here we’re going to be caught. understand?” his hand craining over your mouth and looking into your swirling irises making sure you understood.

both of his rings looped over your fingers as his fingers thrusted in and out of you. you bit your lip a slight vermillion covering the bottom of your lip and a metallic taste on the tip of your tongue as you tried to hold back your moans.

your eyes proceeding to roll back to your head and your own head falling back in his grasp as he brought you closer to your orgasam and still attempting to be quiet in the depths of the night, on the ruby couch.

the fire being the only light source, his hands easily finding their way to your cunt and hitting your g-spot with his fingers.

“ron— fuck!” your voice muffled by his hand still covering your mouth.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

when u touch him a specific way. ron isn’t an idiot and he can decipher when you’re innocently touching him and when your touching him that’s gonna lead to something else.

in the middle of the great hall, dinner time. ron normally would’ve been stuffing his face in delight; instead your hand was steadily gripping his upper thigh as he attempted to eat to distract his mind from the hard on growing from your touch.

“y/n.” he lowly growled in your direction. “yes?”you turned in his direction, seeing his crimson face. you bat your eyelashes at him feigning innocence.

he moved his face closer to yours, touching the shell of your ear with his slightly chapped lips.

“you better prepare that pretty pussy of yours to not walk for a month after i’m done with you, brat.”

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

during sex i feel like he wouldn’t want anyone else to see you, like you’re for his eyes only. like your his prized possession that he has all to himself and he definitely doesn’t wanna share, so i feel like he wouldn’t be into threesomes or anything.

“c’mon ickle ronniekins, you know they always say ‘sharing is caring.’ and i’m personally offended.” fred teased his little brother on his sex life with girlfriend after finding out ron had lost his virginity and wasn’t their “ickle ronniekins anymore”.

“oi, sharing is caring i mean if fred can then so can i.” george added, both the twins were simply just trying to rile ron up and get on his nerves.

they had no interest in having sex with his girlfriend but today they were feeling particularly annoying and wanted to see how far they could push him till he had a tantrum.

“but she did pick me and not you two sod’s, right?” ron quipped.

“so i don’t believe she’s particularly interested in any other person besides me, and i don’t share.”

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

ron would literally eat pussy everyday if he wanted to, and HE DOES. literally hours he could spend under your skirt it’s like HEAVEN TO HIM.

“sir! so sore, m’so sore.” you whimpered as he continued to swipe his tongue through your glistenening folds and around your cunt.

this has been your third time of the night cumming on his tongue, and he wouldn’t stop until you atleast did four.

your ankles were locked behind his head, both of his hands squeezing at the sides of your thighs; his rings and kneading of the flesh guaranteed to leave marks.

“m’gonna cum— please can i—“ you stuttered out trying to have atleast one coherent thought.

“go on angel, wanna feel you on my tongue.”

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

ron is fast but ron is passionate, i feel like if it was rough and fast it would just feel too rushed and he doesn’t want that so he has a fast pace but it’s also really passionate in the way he’s lovin u up.

“bunny— make me feel so good.” he crooned into your ear, feeling his breath on your neck.

he was thrusting in and out of you, well on your way to your third orgasam of the night. after switching positions and paces this one finally felt perfect.

one hand wrapped around your lower back and his other forearm knealt by the side of your face. your legs were locked around his lower back and your hands interlocked around his neck, previously scratching down his back feeling the muscles clench as your nails ran down; he was guaranteed to be teased when changing into his quidditch uniform tommorow.

his pace was fast moving quickly, but prasing your every move and showering your body in kisses.

he never deferred from making you feel any less than loved, even when being degraded or punished you knew he would shower you in praise and food. loving you in your most vulnerable state.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

i don’t think he really likes them? he doesn’t really hav enough time to do what he wants with you. like i don’t think he would want a quick fuck in a class room bc he was horny, he would just take you to his dorm for the rest of the day.

“so, so aroused you couldn’t even wait till after dinner.” you pouted at his standing figure, while you were seated on the bed spreading your legs for his use.

“and i’m the desperate slut, daddy? don’t you think that’s a bit hypocritical.” you whined at him, batting your eyelashes.

“bunny, you better watch your tone.” his slacks falling to the ground, “i’ll take you over my knee right now.”

“you gonna spank me?” whimpering, trying to push him limits.

“if you keep acting like a little brat, i will.” he said while approaching your spread body.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

as long as your comfortable with it, i feel like he would be okay with it. i mean it is your pleasure that matters most to him at the end of the day.

“and you’re sure?” he confirmed, holding the silk blindfold in between his trembling fingers. He was nervous about trying something where you couldn’t see what he was doing.

you nodded to him, looking into his blue irises full of certainty. “hundred percent. if something happens i’ll call safeword.” you assured him grabbing his hand bringing it towards your face.

“and that is?”

“red.”

“good, good.” he murmured the last word tying it around your eyes, ridding you of sight. you settled on your back against the plaid comforter hugging the mattress.

“ready?”

“ready.” you stated, feeling the cool sensation of ice glide against your stomach.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

ATLEAST FOUR. he plays quidditch. he’s sexy. he’s ron. HE can last ATLEAST four rounds.

“daddy— no more, s-so sore.” you begged as he hovered over you, his finger tips dancing on your clit. you hissed, at the feeling of pins and needles over your over sensitive cunt.

“but weren’t you begging earlier? you wanted to be a little brat and just wanted to be full? what happen to that messy girl?” he taunted, looking down at your sqriming body.

you whined as he continued to draw figure eights on your clit, already stimulating you to the point of another orgasam.

“mhm, daddy, fuck!” you whimpered, moans bubbling from your throat as you felt a burning sensation starting to tremble in your stomach

“daddy!”

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

i feel like when he is punishing you he would use a vibrator on you but tie you up and edge and overstimulate you till you learned your lesson. other than that i don’t think so because he likes teasing you himself rather than using something else.

the vibrations of a small device pressing directly on your small, overstimulated puffy, bundle of nerves and pushed out two orgasams of you already.

“daddy! no more— please! m’sorry, m’so so sorry!” you whined as your legs subconsciously shook and quivered in the grasp of the ropes around your body.

he turned up the speed, increasing your whimpers. “but, you my brat, were a bad girl. who gave you permission to flirt with harry like that?” he said completely turning off the device and waiting a few seconds before turning it up to maximum speed.

you jumped up at the reoccurring vibrations. “nobody, nobody! i jus’ wanted your attention, daddy! only you.” you slurred, your face burying into the mattress and your legs fought against your restraints.

“well all you had to do was ask, dove. now this is what happens when you’re bad.” he smirked at your figure turned away from him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

every opportunity he has, he teases. he likes to give and take away your pleasure any time he wants just because he can. and he loves seeing you squirm for him.

he had edged you five times, you were a brat, like always but you thought he atleast would’ve given into your whining and begs by now.

“sir! please, ‘ve been a good girl. i swear it!” you said frantically as your legs squirmed due to his manipulation.

“but good girls aren’t brats, are they?” he questioned to you, you looked at him on your forearms and your quivering legs in his grasp.

“but m’sorry, please sir!”

he thought for a moment, should he give in? but seeing you so vulnerable made him want to edge you longer just to see you beg for his touch.

“hmm, baby. no” he slurred through a hoarse tone, continuing to deny your orgasams.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

it’s mainly grunts and moans, with a bit of praise mixed with degrations.

“ahh fuck— angel.” he grunted, steadying a pace into your pussy. “my good little girl, letting me use her cunt.”

“aren’t you my pretty little cumdump?” his hand grasping the column of your throat making you look at him.

you nodded at him gasping as we squeezing and continued thrusting into him.

“daddy!” you gasped as he bumped your cervix with his cock that was begging for release.

he moaned at the name, continuing his praise mixed with degrations. “my messy little cumslut— isn’t what you are?” his tone firm as he grasped your cheek in his one hand making your lips in a pout.

“yes, daddy.”

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

he would take polaroids of you during sex.

“my pretty little pussy.” he murmured snapping a polaroid of his cum leaking out of you.

“such a messy girl.” he said while fanning out the picture and looking at your limp, worn-out and flush body.

“ron, make sure you put it with the other ones- fuck!” you breathed out to him until you felt his fingers dig into the the walls of your pussy.

“gotta make sure it all stays in there, dove.”

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

i’d give him like 7-8 hard? BUT HES THICK

your lips were hollowed around his girth, sucking and licking his tip in your mouth.

he moaned at the feeling of your glossy lips around his prick sucking to the base cock.

“fuck— angel. m’gonna—“ he slurred out in euphoria trying to manage a coherent sentence when all he could think about how beautiful you looked with your lips hollowed around his cock and tears mixed with mascara running down the apples of your cheeks.

you fastened your pace around his cock, his tip bumping against your reflex causing a small gag to erupt from your throat. you payed no mind to it continuing to breath from your nose until he shot his seed pouring down your throat.

“fuck me, y/n.”

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

i feel like it all depends on you? like he’s a horny teenage boy but nothing really gets him going like you do tbh. like if you ever did something sexy or something that could be innocent but has his mind running wild then yes but other than that it’s all on your sex drive.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

i feel like after the both of you are finished eating he kisses the top of your head and the both of you fall asleep together in eachothers arms.

“my beautiful angel. always doing so well f’me.” he murmured against your hair, gripping the remote with one hand switching off the movie as your eyelids began to slowly droop down. your eyelashes dusting against the apples of your cheeks; you were so fucked out, so vulnerable, so beautiful.

he pushed the rest of the snacks onto the floor, trying to be quiet and not disturb your peace. knowing that he, or rather you would pick up off the floor.

he settled himself on the pillows stroking your hair, his own eyes dropping down as his one hand rubbed your back and the other massaging the root of your hair.

“i love you, my sweets.” he whispered before falling asleep.

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awhitehead17 · 3 years

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Batfam Alphabet: H - Height

Summary: When Bruce brings a new kid home who happens to be taller than him, Tim isn’t pleased. He already gets relentless insults about his height from the others so adding someone else into the mix will not help, in fact it’s just rather mean. How could Bruce do this to him?

Enjoy! :D

“Absolutely not. Take him back. Get a refund.”

Everyone turns to look at Tim in disbelief as his protest cuts through the silence of the room. Tim pays them all little attention as he keeps his focus on the person directly in front of him.

The newest member of their dysfunctional family stands opposite Tim with a look of uncertainty on his face, probably caused by Tim’s rather blunt comment. Tim already knows all about Duke Thomas, he’s heard about him and has even read what little documents there are on him but this is the first time they are meeting in person. He had been away for the last two weeks on a Titan’s mission and only returned to the Manor that afternoon.

Just behind Duke, Bruce stands stiffly sending him a hard glare. “Tim, do we need to have a conversation?”

In a show of exaggeration, Tim pouts and sends a Bruce a betrayed look. “Yes Bruce. Let’s have a conversation, let’s talk about how this is just unfair of you to do this to me.”

The previous looks of disbelief turn into confusion but it’s Duke who speaks up first now looking both confused and upset. “Hey man, what did I do? This is the first time we’re meeting, surely I haven’t been able to piss you off already?”

At this point Tim has to bite back a grin. He’s only teasing Duke, he has absolutely nothing against the guy, everything he's heard is all positive and Tim honestly thinks he’s brave for willingly coming into the family as he is.

“Tim do you mind explaining yourself.” Bruce demands lowly. His adoptive father is sending him a disapproving look, clearly he isn’t clicking onto Tim’s teasing.

Waving his arms dramatically at Duke, Tim explains. “This is unfair because he’s taller than me! How could you bring someone into the family that’s taller than me Bruce, especially someone who is younger! I thought you loved me.”

A few beats of silence pass by as everyone comprehends Tim’s words. The confused looks revert back into the disbelieving looks but for a different reason this time.

From the right there’s a snort from Jason. “Oh my god I didn’t even notice it, Tim is still the smallest in the family!”

As Jason cackles, because the bastard loves taking the piss out of Tim’s height, Bruce suddenly looks resigned. He sighs before running a hand over his face and Tim bets he’s questioning why he ever thought it was a good idea to have kids.

“Aw,” Dick coos from the side, he’s grinning widely glancing at him and Duke, “Timmy is still the baby bird of the family.”

“That’s not true!” Tim protests, he wheels around to pin Dick with a look. “Damian, and now Duke, are in fact younger than me, making them the baby birds of the family.”

“Aw Timmy…” Dick makes his way over to Tim and before Tim could react, his oldest brother has him trapped in a hug. Dick locks his arms tightly around Tim’s neck and rests his head on top of Tim’s, clearly using his height to his advantage. Tim squawks in protest and tries to push him away with no avail.

“Technically speaking, isn’t Damian the shortest one out everyone?” Duke questions looking a little frazzled at everything going on.

“Yes, but not for much longer,” Jason answers him, “it’s already obvious the demon spawn will outgrow Timmy here. The kid’s eleven, he has at least another three or four growth spurts in him. And have you seen the size of Bruce? There's no way that kid is staying short.”

Tim wiggles in Dick’s grip, trying to move his head around so he could send Jason a glare. “Hey! I have at least another one in me.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “Sure you do baby bird.”

“What about Cass, she’s smaller than Tim isn’t she?” Duke speaks up again. Tim appreciates the way he keeps bringing up other family members but it also goes to show he has a lot to learn about the way they operate in this family.

Dick gives him a squeeze and Tim grits his teeth, even throwing a punch into the man’s side in attempts to break free from the octopus grasp he’s locked in. He feels Dick shake his head. “Cass doesn’t count, she’s in her own category. Plus she doesn’t get annoyed about it like Tim does, with him we always get a reaction.”

Using all of his force this time, Tim jabs Dick in the stomach before kicking one of his knees, the man stumbles and Tim uses the advantage to finally break free from his grip. Scowling he steps away from him. “Because you’re all assholes that’s why.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “You’re the one that brought it up Tim, you were practically asking for the teasing this time round.”

All Tim could do was huff and cross his arms over his chest because he’s not wrong and Tim can’t exactly deny it.

“It doesn’t matter how tall you end up being or not being.” Bruce suddenly declares. Everyone turns to stare at him, having completely forgotten the man was even in the room. He had been silently watching them converse the entire time.

The man walks over to Tim and places a warm hand on his shoulder, sending him a supportive smile. “Unfortunately we cannot control our genes so we have to work with what we got and make up for what we don’t. You know this Tim, you need to stop letting your brother’s wind you up about it.”

Tim opens his mouth to object against his words but Bruce doesn’t seem to be interested in what he has to say because he gives his shoulder a squeeze and without further ado leaves the room. Tim blinks after him, taking a moment to register what just happened.

A silence falls over the room as the boys all look at one another and it soon becomes awkward as no one seems to know how to break it. In the end it’s Tim himself who breaks it, in a small voice he brings up the previous topic again.

“Being small can have its benefits I guess…” He weakly argues.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Jason mocks, either humouring Tim or simply finding another way to tease him.

“Like beating your fat ass for one.” Tim retorts, trying to not fall for the trap again. This kind of thing really does hit a nerve and make him go on the defensive side. It’s one of his insecurities, he can’t help it.

“Excuse you, I am not fat. This is all hard core muscles, you little twink.” Jason counters back, even standing up straighter as if his height will intimidate Tim.

Tim rolls his eyes at the display, he may be short yes, but he is far from intimidated by Jason’s height. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Alright enough.” Tim’s attention breaks away from Jason when Dick steps between them, intervening. “Enough with the dick measuring contest. As Bruce rightfully said, we work with what we’ve got and make up for what we don’t. Every height has its advantages and disadvantages.”

“Oh fuck off dickhead. That’s bullshit and you know it. We have to show Duke here how things get sorted here now he’s part of the family.” Jason says eyes narrowing at the oldest in the room.

“Real mature Jay,” Dick rolls his eyes, he glances at Duke afterwards, “this isn’t how things get sorted out between us, we’re better than this.”

Duke holds his hands up placatingly, “I don’t even think I want to know.”

“That’s probably a wise idea.”

Tim snorts. “Oh don’t worry about it, Jason here is just insecure because he knows that I can take him down. Even with my small size I can beat him.”

Jason points at him threateningly. “Is that a challenge replacement? Because I will take you down.”

“Will you now? And how would you do that, by sitting on me?”

“Right you little shit…”

Tim yelps as Jason lunges for him. He’s able to dart out of the way from being grabbed and has to dodge again when Jason lunges for him a second time. Knowing that Jason won’t stop until he’s had his revenge Tim dashes for the door to make his escape. As he exits the room he shouts over his shoulder. “Can your fat ass keep up? My smaller size allows me to be more agile than you!”

Jason yells in protest but Tim doesn’t pay attention to it, all he does it focus on getting as far away as he could.

Back in the room, Dick and Duke watch as Tim hurriedly exits the room with a furious Jason on his tail. Dick is unsurprised by the turn of events, having gotten used to this kind of thing a long time ago. Duke, on the other hand, blinks in bewilderment and concern. He opens and closes his mouth several times without saying anything as if he doesn’t know what to say.

Dick glances at him after a moment. “Don’t worry about it, this kind of thing happens all the time, you’ll get used to it.”

“So a simple conversation can turn into a fighting match?”

“Yeah pretty much.” Dick starts heading for the door, gesturing for Duke to follow him. “Come on, let’s go make sure they haven’t killed one another.”

Duke looks alarmed at that. “Wait don’t tell me that’s a thing we have to actually worry about!”

Dick could only laugh in response to that.

#batfam alphabet #Tim Drake #bruce wayne #Jason Todd #dick grayson #duke thomas #sibling relationship #sibling rivalry #batfam #humour #everyone makes fun of Tim's height #poor duke #he has no idea what he's in for #teasing #fanfiction

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

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chapter eleven: the end of the world

The next morning was a cold, gray, and soggy one, but Sam had no intention on returning to Louie's apartment for another round that day: she had already packed her things in the back seat and she nestled down in the front seat with her arms folded across her chest and the lapels of her jacket pulled up to her ears. She had no hood or something to cover her head but she wished for one. She didn't want to be seen. Louie himself meanwhile, locked the door behind him and he headed down the steps. She looked on at him as he rounded the front end of the car and opened the door. She sighed through her nose as he climbed into the front seat.

“You okay?” he asked her in a low voice, and she nodded her head.

“Look—I was thinking about this last night before I fell asleep, too,” he started, “neither of us mean to inflame or kick up any old wounds with anyone. We're just—fooling around, messing around, you know?”

She gazed out the window right as he said that. She had nothing to say to that.

“If either of us made you uncomfortable—and I can tell we did—we didn't mean to. I didn't mean to, and I know Alex didn't mean to, either. And for that, I want to personally apologize to you for it.”

Sam never moved from her spot in the seat next to him. She couldn't hardly stop thinking about any of what went down the night before, such that it almost brought a tear to her eye.

“Also—I, uh—” he stammered and then he cleared his throat, “—hate to tell you this, but I'm kinda out of money.”

She turned her attention over to him and frowned.

“What do you mean you're out of money?” she demanded.

“I'm out of money,” he repeated, “well, for now anyway. Remember what I said yesterday, I had enough for breakfast and a cab?”

“Oh, right, right.” She hesitated. “So what's this mean?”

“Well, I have a full tank of fuel to start with,” he stated, to which she frowned and scoffed at that.

“Louie, we're not driving back to Elsinore from here—it's too far.” She was scorn.

“But the train already left, though,” he pointed out. “It's kind of overkill to fly on down to Elsinore, too.”

She sighed through her nose again.

“Don't really feel like driving through the valley, either,” he added.

“Yeah, it's boring as hell,” she said in a soft voice.

“Boring as hell and still hot as fuck, too,” he said, “at least here we have a bit of leeway with the San Francisco fog. Seven hours of nothin'.” He paused for a second. “We could take the coast.”

“That's longer, though,” she pointed out.

“Nicer, though,” he insisted.

“True. It's way nicer, actually.”

“Bet you've missed the Pacific Coast, too,” he said.

“I have—it's one of the many things I haven't been able to do like at all. Especially when I was growing up out here.”

“Really?” Louie was genuinely taken aback by that.

“Yeah.”

“Well, let's—” He set his hand on the ignition key and turned it. “Let's.”

Sam strapped herself in and Louie shook his head of hair about a bit.

“One thing I really wanted to do with Zelda,” he started again as he pulled on the parking lever, “when we were together was go on a road trip with her somewhere. I always considered driving from Providence down to some place like D.C., or go all the way down to like West Virginia. The two of us on a trip together and just hanging out together.”

“What kept you from doing it?” she asked him.

“Touring and making albums—and dealing with record company horse shit in her case—and in my case it was living a double life. There was no way I could do it, not with my other life in full swing.”

They pulled ahead and began up the block, around the cemetery and towards the block on the other side.

“So—I haven't really taken the Pacific Coast Highway much from my place so just kind of—like—bear with me here,” he sputtered.

“It's okay, it's okay.”

Louie glanced over at her at one point as they rolled up to a stoplight.

“You know—and I'm being perfectly honest with you here, Sam—I'm a little intimidated by you,” he confessed.

“You?” she asked him.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno,” he replied with a shake of his head, “but there's just something about you that completely intimidates me. Like it's hard for me to maintain composure when I'm near you.”

“There's no reason to be, though,” she promised him.

“But I feel it anyways, though. It could be because you made a bold move in moving across the country and back again, but I can't really say for sure.”

“Funny you say that 'cause you did that,” she pointed out.

“True. But see, you weren't living a double life like I was.”

“I mean, I kinda am now,” she assured him.

“How so?”

“Joey doesn't know about Bill. He also doesn't know that I'm hanging out with you guys, either. For the record, Bill doesn't know that I'm hanging out with you guys, either. It's like a triangle of sorts with me come to think of it.”

“A delta,” said Louie.

“A delta?”

“Yeah. You know the Greek letter delta?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah!”

“Apparently in the realm of science, it's symbolic of change. Like change in temperature or heat.”

“How do you know that?”

“I dunno if she's shown you this but Morgan—you know, Morgan from the Cherry Suicides—has this old chemistry textbook back at her place. She found it in the garbage believe it or not.”

“Something wrong about that,” Sam declared.

“Oh, yeah. Unless it's actually trash, books do not belong in the trash. But yeah, she found it and I just happened to prop it open one day, and I read a tidbit in a chapter about equations at one point.”

“Huh. Bill has a bunch of old books at his place—mostly old literature, but it's worth a peek, though. I keep meaning to crack them open but I'm not sure where to begin.”

The light turned green and Louie lunged ahead on the street. The clouds hung even lower over them as he merged lanes and they headed for the 880 Freeway. To the right of them was the stretch of gray waters that made up the very Bay itself.

“If you ever come back up here this way,” he started again, “you know you're in a car on the P.C.H., you've got to cross the Golden Gate Bridge at some point. There's just—something majestic about it, even if you've lived here your whole life like the five of us. Well, four of us, anyway, unless Chuck was telling a fib about where he was born. This will take us right by Santa Clara and down to the interchange in San Jose, which'll in turn take us all the way down the coastline to the City of Angels.”

Sam nodded her head and she peered out the windshield to the gray overhead. To think that the assumption with the California coast was all bright sunshine and infinite beaches: it made her laugh the more in which she thought about it.

“What's even the deal with him, anyway?” Louie asked her out of the blue.

“Who, Bill?” She looked over at him with her eyebrows knitted together and he took a glimpse over at her.

“Yeah.”

“Well,” she began, “I mean, you were sitting right there when I called Chuck and told him what was going on.”

“Pff, how could I forget? But what I'm asking is—is there like a time limit with him? Like you signed a marriage contract plus a prenup but surely someone over at the school has to figure that out at some point because it's totally illegal. Setting you up like that and forcing you into something that you had no desire to get into and then threatening a whole bunch of bullshit with you like locking you in your room and forbidding you from going out and visiting people.”

“Well, when I first came out here and I spoke to Marla over the phone—you know, she's been trying to get a job and she finally did with Belinda up in Albany. But she went to the school and she told them that he was still on the payroll. He got fired, Louie, but there was some weird glitch of some sort so he still got paid and he got paid a lot of money, too. So he was able to afford that large house and care for his daughters, such that he enlisted them in a private school.”

“So he loses his paycheck, he's fucked, basically,” he followed along.

“Yeah. Unless he got something to help him out when we weren't looking, he's probably got to pull the girls out of school and sell the house.”

“And what happens to you if and when that happens?” he asked her.

“I—” She froze. Louie glanced over at her with his eyebrows raised. “I—don't know. Oh, wait!” She snapped her fingers.

“What's that?”

“My mom's moving down to the Southland soon. Where exactly is another question, though. She might be going out to Catalina or she might be going to San Pedro, I dunno.”

“Or you can go back to Joey,” he pointed out. “You know, make things easier on your mom. It's another cross country, for sure, but I feel it'd be more beneficial to take that risk again and go with him rather than put extra pressure on your mom like that. But that's my opinion, though. You do whatever you want.”

“There should be a way to null it, too,” she added.

“Yeah, being in a car with another dude,” he joked, and that brought a laugh out of her.

Within time, signs for the interchange came into their view and Louie took the next exit which looped around and met up with the Pacific Coast Highway. Right as they matched up with the pavement, the clouds over them swirled about like the old feathers or the wisps of paint mixed into the wash for a watercolor project. She looked out to the low hills off to the right, all of them different shades of green and yellow. All of them still that rich green despite the late summer. All of them still rich dark green despite the yellow dead grass everywhere. The clouds overhead beckoned rain but at the same time waned away from the coast line.

Such a strange position to be in as was the state of California, but that pocket there, the hills that followed her and Louie all along the highway on that lengthy seven hour drive, reminded her of that special place.

The quiet place. The spot that she and Charlie had found together and the place where she and Joey visited during their final days together.

“This is almost like the precious part of California,” she noted aloud.

“Nah, the eastern Sierra is the precious part of California in my opinion,” he said. “There's something lonely and ancient about the eastern Sierra Nevadas.”

“This whole area here reminds me of a place that Charlie and I found together when they were making the Stormtroopers of Death album,” she followed up.

“Really?”

“It was like this little nook in the trees down the street from the studio,” she explained as she returned her attention to him. “We called it 'the quiet place' because you go in there and it's like completely untouched in comparison to everything else. You walk down the street and you have to duck underneath the trees as you're going in there.”

“Sounds like something you keep a secret,” he remarked.

“I told Joey about it, though,” she told him. “I imagine upstate being covered in places like that.”

“Places you go to that no one else knows about,” he followed along. “This part of California and the eastern Sierra is like that, too. Lots of nooks and crannies and what have you. Like there's a place outside of Salinas—I'll have to show it to you when we get there. It's closer to Monterey Bay, though, which means we'll have to leave this highway, though.”

“It's okay—it'll get us over to the ocean.”

“The ocean makes everything better,” he remarked.

The highway took them down past Morgan Hill and then Gilroy: at one point the road turned towards Monterey Bay; off in the distance loomed those cold dark gray waters that seemed to stretch on forever. The view enlarged as they came closer and closer to the next turn off and the 156: Louie told her it would take them to Highway 1, which would in turn take them to the place he had in mind. At that point, the clouds increased and everything grew dark despite it being almost ten o'clock in the morning.

“While we're over here, you don't mind spending a little money for breakfast, do you?” he asked her at one point.

“Not at all. I was just gonna ask you if you're hungry at all.”

He showed her a grin in response, and then he pointed out the windshield to the next sign up ahead: the town of Castroville as well as the turn off to Highway 1.

“So anyway, this place—it's over by the Salinas River, which eventually heads out to the ocean,” he explained. “When I first met Zelda, and I was waffling on if I wanted to go with her or stay with my concurrent girlfriend and our baby, I always came here. It always helped me clear my head to drive down here when the baby fell asleep and Zelda was back in Rhode Island. I remember staying down here for a full afternoon once. Like I didn't get back home until well after the sun went down. Needless to say, I almost got in trouble for that.”

She laughed at that, and he gave his long smooth hair a little toss back from his face and the side of his neck.

“And the highway will take us all the way down the coastline, too. Take us down to Big Sur and all around the coast, all the way down to San Simeon and Cambria, and then Morro Bay, and then that'll take us over to San Luis Obispo and that's where we meet up with 101 again.”

“And that'll take us all the way back to L.A., too.”

He nodded his head at that, and then Sam cleared her throat.

“I don't think I get Alex,” she confessed.

“A lot of people don't,” he assured her with a straight face.

“It's funny, he said the exact same thing to me,” she recalled. “Word for word.”

“Well, because it's true! A lot of people don't get Alex. That kid is a bundle of contradictions, many of which are not for the faint of heart. I've only known him for a few years but can confirm that, though. And what's mind blowing to me is he's completely aware of it, too. I remember the first time I got into an in-depth conversation with him a few years ago when Testament first formed and we were still Legacy. Sam, I never had such a worse headache.”

“Well, like. For example, when we were in Germany and he and I spent a whole day together—”

“And he missed the train?” he finished for her. “Chuck told me.”

“Yeah, he missed the train and he got upset with me when I tried to grab his attention and get him to come onboard. Then the fireball happened and he realized the error of his ways and we patched it up. And then, you know last night, he opened up the wound over Cliff with me.”

“The fireball happened and what exactly did he do there?”

“I put my arms around him and held him close to me,” she explained. “Wept like a baby right into my chest.”

“He probably liked to feel your chest,” he pointed out.

“What makes you think that?”

“Sam—he's nineteen, soon to be twenty. When I was nineteen, that was all I ever thought about were touching and feeling boobs and clits. We're horny bastards at that age, and I would imagine that he is especially, too. Alex is bit of a nerd—it's the whole thing about how girls don't really talk to nerds.”

“But he's a guitar player, though. I would imagine the girls getting all hot and bothered to guitar players.”

“Not Alex and not our crowds, no. He's like the thinking man's guitarist. I'm sure you've seen him before a television.”

“Oh, yeah, he's all over news reports whenever they come on. Well, I was with you guys in Boston and he and Greg were right before the TV in the room there.”

“Oh, yeah, that's right! But still—at the end of the day, even with his large brain and social scientist parents, he's still a guy. And he probably wanted to feel something soft and warm and comfy.” Louie glimpsed over at her. “You said he was scared, right?”

“Yeah. It was right when that big fireball went up. He just—came over to me and burst into tears at the sight of it. I held him so close to me and I let him weep into my chest.”

“Well—if you see him next time, really pay attention to his behavior towards you,” he advised her. “If he's actually sincere with you, then it's probably because he's confused and his inexperience is showing. If not, like if he gets close to you again, then don't bother with him for a second longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I'm saying is he either wants you for you or he's using you,” he explained. “I wish I could tell you more about it, but I'm not Alex, though. I can only tell you what I know from being in between two women for a couple of years.” He shook his hair again and then raked his fingers through one side: outside, the signs for Castroville emerged from the scraggly shrubs on either side of the road.

“I imagine him being soft and sweet, though,” he confessed in a low voice, such that it took her aback to hear that.

“Is—there something about him that you see with him?” she sputtered out as she took a glimpse over at him with a bewildered look on her face. Louie bowed his head and cleared his throat.

“Let me ask you a question,” he said as he leaned his head closer to her.

“Okay.”

“Does it bother you at all—” She could tell that he chose his words with care. “—when a guy finds another guy attractive and it's obvious he's not gay at all?”

She opened her mouth to say something to that, but no sound came out.

“Take as much time as you need to answer that, too,” he assured her, “—I asked Zelda this once and she really had to think about it.”

She thought of all the times that she made art while in class, and she thought of the time that she drew Marla in her journal. It wasn't until she really got to know Marla as well as Belinda when she began to see them as a couple of beautiful women. Indeed, as she thought about their willingness to help her out even while she had posted up out on the West Coast, the more she wondered if the whole thing extended further than their smooth New Yorker skin. Further than Marla's colorful hair and further than Belinda's soft doll like features. There was something more to Alex, much like there was something more to Louie in the seat there next to her, and there had to be something more to herself as well. More to them all, and the fact that she and Louie both had a quiet place, a place where they went that fell on blind eyes, was enough to give her a clue.

The hidden spots and everything in between. It was only the beginning.

And thus it only made sense to her to realize that it resided with everyone, including Alex himself.

“No,” she replied after a long while. “No, it doesn't bother me at all.”

“Okay,” Louie proclaimed as they rolled into Castroville. “Sometimes I look at Alex and I think, 'god, he's a really beautiful boy. I imagine being the perfect cuddler, like he must be adept to snuggling and feeling soft underneath a bunch of blankets.' Not necessarily sexy, although he does have a nice chest and thighs.”

“Nice arms, too,” she said in a soft voice.

“Yeah, he's got those really lanky strong guitar player arms.”

“Hey, you've got nice arms, too, Lewis,” she declared.

“Drummer arms.” He shook his right elbow about: his muscles were tight and sinewy.

“Reminds me of Joey's arms,” she said.

“Oh, yeah, that's right! He's a drummer, too.”

“Drummer and a hockey player.”

Louie took the first exit off into that small town and Sam volunteered to buy the both of them cups of coffee and a couple of scones for themselves: she took a chocolate one where he took a peach one for himself.

Within time, they climbed back into the car and Louie guided her over to the spot in question, right down by the Salinas River and where it widened out before it reached the ocean in small narrow fashion. It was there that the shades of yellow that followed them out of the Bay Area returned to that rich dark green that reminded her of New York. The space in the forest outside of the studio where she and Charlie ventured to together, and then she and Joey visited under a blanket of pure white snow.

“We all have a quiet place,” she declared.

“We really do,” Louie said as he sipped on his coffee.

“We all have a house and a home, even if it isn't physical,” she said.

“Yeah, we all have an attic. We all have secrets. We all have things that we show to everyone.”

“We all have things that we've buried—skeletons in the closet,” she muttered.

“And we all have a quiet place,” he added with a raise of his eyebrows.

He took the next right turn, one that brought them down the Salinas River and away from civilization. All the while, the ponderosa pines stretched high up into the sky around them, all up into those low dark swirling clouds that enveloped them in a blanket of coziness. Soon, the pavement gave way to gravel and broken pieces of pavement itself; and every so often, Sam spotted a series of shrubs all over the places, shrubs with little light pink and pearly white flowers.

“The rhododendrons are still in bloom I see,” Louie remarked.

“I don't think I've actually seen those before,” she confessed; the whole scenery made her think of the hole in the wall back in Ithaca. “They only grow here on the coast and in northern Nevada, we have all manner of pines and trees but nothing like this, though. Nothing as delicate and fluffy as those, though.”

“You guys get oleanders down in the Southland. I've seen those a number of times, they're quite lovely.”

“Oh, yeah. Only drawback with oleanders is they grow like weeds down there. Which is absolutely amazing to me because they're very poisonous.”

“At least it's not strychnine,” he told her. “Strychnine or—better yet deadly nightshade.” And Joey entered her mind right as that final word left his lips. “I don't even know if strychnine grows out here,” he continued.

“Yeah, I don't know, either...” Her voice trailed off at that. She thought about Joey and what he was doing right at that moment. They were still touring over in Europe and they were about to drop their brand new album in the meantime as well. If nothing else when she got back to Lake Elsinore, she had to pick up a copy of that.

She would have to search about for that familiar lettering: she knew it when she saw it.

“There should be a garden somewhere,” he continued, “one full of poison plants.”

“The most dangerous garden in the world,” she declared.

“We should literally call it that.”

“'We'?”

“'They', I should say,” he corrected himself; before them, the little road led to that wide part of the river. Big lush ponderosas as well as oak trees with large wide green leaves the size of dinner plates and tall narrow trees with high canopies surrounded them.

“I was just gonna say—do you really wanna go there, Louie?”

“Unless you wanna.” He tugged on the parking lever and switched off the car. “I ain't gonna do it unless you want to do it.”

“We gotta be careful, though,” she pointed out.

“Oh, absolutely. That's something that's just not for the faint of heart. The quintessential declaration of 'you can look but don't touch'. Might wanna throw in a 'for the love of god' in there, too. 'You can look but for the love of god, do not touch.'”

“'Welcome to Shelley and Clemente's poison garden,'” she declared with a gesture of her hand, “the most dangerous garden on Earth. We've got everything from strychnine to belladonna to oleanders to—whatever else we can find. Have it all together under one umbrella. You and me—we could retire off the profits.”

“You think people would actually pay money to see that?” he asked her, stunned.

“Yeah. People pay money to see the weirdest shit, Louie.”

“Case in point!” He gestured to himself.

“You guys aren't weird,” she assured him.

“Yes, we are. We're as weird as weird can possibly be.” He sipped on his coffee a bit more and then he unbuckled his seat belt. “Anyways, this is where I come to clear my head. I call this place 'the end of the world' 'cause it's far removed away from anything. It's only ten miles back to Castroville but—still.”

They both climbed out of there in unison; Sam peered up to the gray sky overhead and she took in the smell of the salt as it filtered in through the trees before them. The Salinas River flowed right next to the small stretch of gravel and partially collapsed pavement.

“This is like the perfect place for a poison garden,” she told him as he led her to the soft dark river bank.

“Oh, yeah, this lush soil here. Look up the plants and see what kind of environment they thrive in.”

“I do know oleanders like heat,” she told him, “it's why they're everywhere in the L.A. area and in the south, too.”

“Have a special greenhouse for those guys,” he continued as he held his cup of coffee close to his chest. “Kinda clean up the pavement behind us a bit so—Skolnick can drive around on it on his—golf—cart.”

“Shelley and Clemente's poison garden—featuring Alex Skolnick's golf cart.” She laughed at that and he laughed with her.

“Can you imagine Alex on a golf cart?” he asked her, and then he held out his arms, “'oh! Oh god! Oh god here we go!'” And he lowered his voice to where he almost matched Alex's tone.

“Four wheelin' on a golf cart,” she laughed some more.

“Hey, Alex! Take it easy, little man!” Louie lowered his voice to a near whisper. “There's stuff in here that'll kill you faster than you can say your middle name!” He shook his head and chuckled some more, and then he took another sip of his coffee.

“So what's the quiet place like?” he asked her as they neared the river's edge.

“In upstate?”

“Yeah.”

“It's about like this, without the river, of course. There was another spot that Joey and I went to when Stormtroopers were in Ithaca a few summers ago—right by the water's edge at the one lake—one of the Finger Lakes that's there. It kind of reminds me of that, like I'm getting the same feeling as that.”

They stopped at the water's edge and Sam leaned out a little bit for a view beyond the trees. The stretch of rich black and gray that was the Pacific Ocean, a mere stone's throw up ahead of them. Even though Louie had a different opinion, Sam couldn't help but feel that there was something prehistoric about this part of the river; something precious and untouched.

“Sometimes, when it's a bit sunnier out,” he started again, “I'll kneel down to the waters here and search around for insects and rocks and stuff. There's a lot of bizarre life here that's endemic only to this part of the river and as far as I know, the whole state.”

“Kind of like a 'keep it forever' sort of thing,” she noted.

“Exactly, right. Keep this whole place hidden away from the world so as to protect it from everything and everyone. Eastern Sierra is the same way. Exact same way.” He sipped on his coffee once again.

“C'mon, I think it's gonna rain—I feel it.”

They returned to the car and sure enough, as Louie fired it up again and they made a turn back at the dead end and proceeded back up the pavement, the first large drops of rain pattered on the roof and the windshield. It would be some time before they reached the Highway 1 once again, but once they did, Sam wondered as to how far they could go without seeing another sliver of civilization between Monterey Bay and the next spot on the coast.

To the left of them stood the high sea cliffs in all their withered and eroded glory, strong and high over their heads, much stronger and higher than the buildings back in New York City or Los Angeles or even San Francisco itself. To the right stood the ocean: the gray and black waters that went on forever into the horizon. Empty and cold, and cradled by the clouds over them. Everything gray and black.

Every so often, Sam peered down to the waves down below as they crashed on the rocks. She looked to the left once again: every so often in the cliffs, a minute ponderosa jutted out from the cracks as if it gasped for the fresh oceanic air. The coast line seemed to stretch on for infinity before them. She glanced over at Louie and the serene expression on his face.

He was her drummer in that moment.

She turned her attention back out to the ocean beyond them as they went around a corner. Maybe it was the lack of anything discernible on the cliffs or the fact that the ocean appearead so endless beyond them, but something about all of this made her squirm in her seat.

Louie's occasional peers down to the gages behind the steering wheel didn't help, either.

An eternity in such a small pocket of the coastline. They really were at the end of the world.

A sign emerged on the side of the road but she had no idea what it read.

“We probably should've stopped for gas in Castroville,” he told her at one point.

“Why, are we low?” she asked him as her heart skipped a beat.

“Sorta. I hope. I don't really know the economy on this thing—I don't really pay attention to that sort of thing.”

They rounded another corner and Louie drummed his fingers on the steering wheel: that time they had a full view of the ocean. The grand view of the waves as they welcomed her to the end of the world, and they were about to run out of gas as far as she knew right then.

Another sign emerged from behind the guard rail and that time she saw that they were ten miles from the central part of the coast.

“Mother fucker!” he spat under his breath.

“It's okay—we're almost to San Simeon,” she told him.

“Yeah, I know—I'm still kicking myself, though. We'll probably gonna coast there the rate we're going at right at the moment.”

“Seriously?” she demanded, shocked.

“Yeah!”

She closed her eyes and she thought of Joey over in Europe. The only thing that seemed worse than losing Cliff to a bus accident that was far beyond her control was her being stranded on the Central California coast and not being able to tell anyone. But then again, they were close to the next piece of civilization.

“As long as we don't drive into the ocean, I think we'll be fine,” she told him.

“We don't drive into a—poison garden,” he muttered as they went around yet another bend in the road: the cliffs soon began to lower away to the sight of more ponderosas and scraggly shrubs.

“There's no poison gardens here,” she assured him.

“You sure? 'Cause like—there's a bend here—and another here—it's like this.”

They rounded a corner as it wound around the coastline: the road dipped inward into a gentle curve and they doubled back to the next crevice in the landscape.

“Sit—” He pointed to the left. “—down—” He pointed to the right. “—sit—down—sit—down—poison garden.” He pointed straight ahead at that last part and she chuckled at that.

Sure enough, the car sputtered a bit right outside of San Simeon: Hearst Castle rose up off in the distance but they had no time to visit right at that moment.

“Told ya we'd have to coast,” he told her as he guided the car to the gas station right there at the edge of town. The engine sputtered again and died right as they coasted into the first spot near the driveway. He let out a low whistle and leaned back in his seat.

“That was close,” she remarked.

“Yeah, I'll say,” he breathed, and then he turned his attention to her. “A twenty'll get us to the heart of Lost Angles and it'll get me up the Grapevine and into the Central Valley.”

“You're not gonna hang out there with me?”

“I can't,” he told her. “We're supposed to make a new album ourselves.”

“Oh, yeah, that's right!” She handed him a twenty dollar bill, followed by another which would ensure him a ride back home to the Bay Area.

Once they were filled up, they returned to the road.

“I don't know if Hearst Castle is even open,” Louie confessed.

“I don't, either. It's getting kind of late in the day, too.”

“Yeah, exactly!”

Some more coastline and they found their way down into Solvang and then San Luis Obispo where they were met with the Pacific Coast Highway yet again, and they moved away from the end of the world. So much that she wanted to show to Joey. And so much that she wished Cliff could see again, especially that one stretch of the highway where everything felt so finite and endless at the same time.

They wound their way through the low foothills and yet another unknown pocket of California, until they skirted the outside of Santa Barbara followed by Carpinteria.

The waves down below thrashed even more as they wound along the cliffs towards Ventura. At that point, the sky began to darken with the setting sun on the other side of the blanket of clouds overhead.

“Part of me wants to go down to the beaches here,” Louie confessed to her. “Like—take a walk on one of the beaches here. Yet another thing I wanted to do with Zelda when we were together.”

“We don't have towels, though,” she pointed out.

“And it's cold, too!”

“Right!”

The highway led them into Camarillo and then the heart of Los Angeles, where it ended and became the 210. At that point, night was about to fall over them, and the feeling of dread washed over Sam herself. She knew that Bill would be furious by the mere sight of her walking through that front door without any sort of explanation.

Louie drove them down to Corona and then the hills which cradled Lake Elsinore away from the rest of the region. The clouds had finally dissipated and gave way to a violet and orange sky overhead. Such a great length of time to be in that car with him and a part of her wished they had more time.

More time together. More time to relish over the idea of the poison garden.

But that time was all they had right then and there, much like that stretch of highway that overlooked the ocean.

She guided him to the house by the lake and within time, she recognized the neighborhood in question.

He pulled up to the curb and she sighed through her nose at the realization. Her head spun a bit from having driven such a great distance but at least they could come to a stop on a steady piece of ground. She looked on at the house, with its windows dark and the shades pulled despite the fact that it wasn't that late in the evening.

“Do you need any help?” he offered her, to which she shook her head. Instead, she sighed through her nose again and she climbed out to fetch her things out of the back seat. She decided to give her mother a ring later that night when Bill and the girls had gone to bed, that is if they already did. She hoisted her overnight bag over her shoulder and she held her purse close to her body as she reached the driver's side window. He rolled it down so she could speak to him one last time.

“Louie?”

He leaned closer to the window with his eyebrows raised.

“Thank you,” she said to him in a soft voice, and he showed her a sweet smile.

“It's my pleasure,” he told her with a wink. “Poison garden.”

“Poison garden,” she echoed him with a smile on her face.

“Also—”

She stopped and he gestured for her to come on closer to him.

“Don't worry, I'll—I'll talk to him,” he vowed to her.

“Who?”

“You know. The little man.”

“Oh, him!” She stopped right in her tracks. “What for?”

“Just to see if he's alright. One thing I've noticed about him when he fucks up something—he's real hard on himself. So if it's kinda messed between the two of you, I'll check in on him. I'll check in on him anyways.”

“Good plan,” she told him. “You be safe going back up, alright?”

“You be safe, too. Poison garden!”

Sam stepped away from the car and she turned back to the house, still in one place. Louie drove away right then and he disappeared around the corner. Another seven hours and he'd be back up there. She returned to the front door of the house and she opened it with ease. Silence.

She knew that he wouldn't do it. Sam shook her head and she bowed upstairs to her room.

#fanfic #fanfiction #chapter 11 #book four #souls of black #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #testament fanfic #testament band #testament #louie clemente #oc tag #long reads #friendship #also on ao3 #also on wattpad #slice of life #writing #text

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lotusss-flowerbomb · 4 years

Text

What We Have (1)

Viktor Drago x reader

Warnings: None for this chapter

Summary: Reader is Adonis’ adopted sister, she and Viktor falls for one another.

A/N: This was a request from @rochyu. I used some stuff from the movie with changes and twists of course. In this version Apollo died after the kids were born. Also, as to not completely butcher the Russian language, everything in bold italics is Russian. Hope you guys enjoy!!

Word Count: 3,187

********

You were on your way to Adrian's with Rocky. You'd been visiting Philly after Adonis told you about his engagement to Bianca. After spending a few days with them, you'd gone to see the old man and of course grab some food at the best Italian spot in the city. When you walked in, the hostess told him a man was waiting for him. When you both looked up you saw Ivan Drago sitting at a table.

"Stay back," he said to you, before walking over and pulling out a chair to sit with the other man.

You walked past Ivan, taking a good look at him before standing off to the side. You listened to their conversation and when Ivan mentioned his son breaking Adonis, Rocky stood from his seat and so did he. Viktor pulled the door open and walked inside with the most menacing scowl on his face and you stepped forward to stand beside Rocky.

You looked Viktor up and down before making eye contact with him. He was huge. Had a few inches over Adonis and a bit of weight, but you saw your brother beat down guys just as big as him in Mexico. He could take him.

You were sitting at the table having dinner with your family. You were so excited that your brother and future sister-in-law had moved back to LA.

Bianca was telling Mary Anne about being signed to a record label, but you could tell by the look on Adonis' face that he was nervous about something. When you made eye contact, no words needed to be said. He was taking the fight and tonight was about breaking the news to your mother. He was getting ready to spill the beans when your mom threw a monkey wrench in the mix thinking they were announcing a pregnancy.

Your eyes darted from Adonis to Bianca.

"Wait, what?" You leaned in.

"No, nuh un, no," Bianca denied as she picked up her glass of wine and took a sip.

All four of you were silent for a moment and then she spit the wine back into the glass.

"I have a test in my bathroom, I'll go get it." You scooted your chair back and started jogging off.

"Aye, woah, hold up," Adonis stopped you. "Why you got a test in your room?"

"I'm grown," you said and left the dining room.

"Momma..."

"She's an adult. Just like you're an adult." Your mother told him.

When you came back down with the test Bianca had to practically drag him to the bathroom. Once they were gone your mother turned to you.

"You had a pregnancy scare and you didn't tell me?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I was a few days late a couple of months ago and I bought it. Started my period the same night." You explained.

"And what happened to being safe to start with?"

"The condom broke."

She gave you the side eye and looked as if she was about to ask another question, but Adonis walked into the room and you both turned your attention to him.

"Well?!" You asked when he didn't say anything.

"I'ma be a dad," he smiled.

You screamed and ran to jump into his arms. You were more excited than he was. He put you down and you ran to Bianca, who was in tears, to give her a hug.

You put your hand on her still flat belly and whispered over and over again.

"Please, be a girl. Please, be a girl."

Once the excitement of the pregnancy died down a bit. You could hear Adonis telling your mother about taking the fight with Drago. You knew she was pissed when you heard her tell him he didn't need her blessing. You walked all the way into the kitchen when she said she hoped he'd be there for his child. She looked up at you and stormed out.

"Rocky isn't training you?" You asked.

"Nah," he paused, "he don't think I can beat him."

"Or maybe the guilt of what happened to dad still eats at him," you shrugged.

"He should be able to let it go."

"Oh, so, you're allowed to have your feelings about it, but he isn't?"

"You gon lecture me too?" He huffed.

"No, I have no interest in wasting my time, because you've already made a decision. I do, however, have a favor to ask."

"And what's that?"

"I want to do the interviews. It'll be great for my career and —"

"No," he immediately shut you down.

"Come on, Donnie, why not?" You put your hands on your hips.

"I don't want you alone in a room with him. I'm not risking your life."

"I won't be alone. I'll have a camera man with me and I can do this. We'll make it a whole Creed thing." You smiled.

He was quiet for a second and then he laughed a little.

"What's so funny?"

"That's gon be an awkward ass post fight interview if I lose," he said.

"Well then, I guess you can't lose."

You flew to the Ukraine with your camera man, Dennis. Over the next few weeks before the fight, you watched on the sidelines as Viktor trained. The only verbal communication the two of you had were simple greetings and every now and then you'd exchanged looks that were far too long to be classified as a glance. You took photos and short video clips of him and Ivan doing drills.

He really was a beast. Powerful, focused hits with every jab, but he was slower than your brother and that's what Adonis had to use against him in order to win.

Today was your last day in Kiev, so you showed up to the gym a little late and waited until the two men were finished. Ivan was heading out of the ring and you walked up the stairs to get in.

"Hey Dennis, can you get some shots of me in here for the cover photo?" You called out to him.

You did a few different poses and then he came over and showed you what he'd done so far. He swiped through the photos and Viktor was behind you in some of them.

He was still in his hand wraps and his body was drenched in sweat. He looked good and he wasn't even trying.

"Damn," you whispered. "Hey, Viktor come here and look at these," you waved him over.

He looked over your shoulder while you scrolled through the photos. The corner of his mouth lifted in a lopsided grin, but it disappeared almost instantly. He stepped away and moved to the ropes to leave.

"I think we can work with what we have," you informed Dennis and followed Viktor.

He held the ropes open for you and jumped down once you were almost out. One of your heels got caught in the process and when you tried lifting your foot you lost your balance. Viktor reached out and caught you before you could hit the ground.

His arms cupped you close to him in the bridal position. You opened your eyes and looked up at him. His bright hazel eyes stared back at you.

"You okay?"

"Uh, yeah, thanks," you said.

"Viktor!" Ivan yelled from the door. "Let's go."

You snapped out of it and wiggled from his arms. He set you gently on your feet and walked towards his father. You cleared your throat and turned to Dennis, who was looking at you quizzically.

"What?" You asked.

"What was that?" He inquired.

"What was what?"

"That moment between you and little Drago."

"There was no moment, Dennis. Grab your stuff and let's go. We've got an early flight in the morning." You grabbed your bag and stomped away.

You sat in the front row for the weigh in. You could obviously see that Viktor was taller and larger than Adonis, but while they were face to face it made you nervous.

You saw your brother look over at Ivan and within a split second all hell started breaking loose. You jumped from your seat, but Dennis held on to your arm.

"It'll look unprofessional and you do not need to jump in between two angry tanks," he advised.

Each team had separated the guys and you looked for Bianca to make sure she was a safe distance away.

"Let's go," you told Dennis. You walked to the locker room to set up for your interview with Viktor. After putting some finishing touches on your makeup, the men finally walked in.

Viktor paused when he laid his eyes on you and then quickly averted his gaze.

"This guy is terrifying, why did you want to do this?" Dennis whispered.

"He's not that scary, Dennis," you rolled your eyes.

Viktor and Ivan had turned their backs to you and were completely ignoring your presence. You tried to be polite and wait for him to finish up whatever it was that he was doing, but it was becoming obvious that they were being rude on purpose.

"Hey, we're on a schedule here, so Viktor, if you wouldn't mind coming over here, so I can get you mic'd up..." You smiled. The annoyed tone of your voice definitely didn't match the look on your face.

"Hello," Viktor said just above a whisper.

"Sit here, please," you ignored his greeting and grabbed the mic and handed it to him. "Put this under your shirt and clip it to your collar."

Ivan was standing so close that you bumped into him when you moved to adjust the position of the mic.

"Would you mind giving us a little space?" You asked him.

"Do I get one?" He countered.

"I'm not interviewing you."

"His English is not too good."

"I guess it's a good thing I've stayed on top of my Russian?"

Both men looked at you in shock. Dennis smiled behind the camera. He knew you couldn't wait to pull that little jaw dropper out of your pocket. You'd spent almost three weeks in Kiev and never let on that you could speak a different language. And since you barely talked to them, there was no reason to.

"Ready for check?" You asked, Dennis.

"Loud and clear," he replied referring to your sound.

"Please state your name, weight and height," you said to Viktor.

"I am Viktor Drago, my weight is 111kg and I am 193 centimeters tall." He replied.

"All good," Dennis confirmed. "Rolling in 3...2...1."

"Hi, Viktor..."

"Hello," he nodded.

"So tonight was your final weigh in and it seems like things got a little bit heated out there. Is that more fuel for your fire?"

"It is..." He stated, but didn't say anything else.

"Okay.... Why is this fight so important to you?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering. You saw his face soften just a little bit before he spoke.

"To restore honor to my family name. To prove to the people of Russia and the world that I am worthy. That my father is worthy."

A beat of silence passed between you before you continued asking questions. The further into the interview you got, he seemed to loosen up a bit.

He told you that he's been training all of his life and that he loved fighting, despite it being tiring at times.

"So after this, whether it's a win, lose or draw, what's next for you? Any plans for a family or a life outside of boxing?"

"I have never really thought about it." He shrugged, "This moment has been my entire life and I will not fail."

His voice was heavy. You could tell that this meant everything to him. More than Drago's revenge as you once thought. You ended the interview with that question.

"We're good Dennis, let's pack up and get to editing, so this will be ready tomorrow morning." You said pulling your mic off.

Ivan told Viktor that he'd meet him in the car and he left. You were seriously having a hard time understanding that man, but you had to remind yourself that he isn't the one you needed to communicate with.

Victor was removing his mic and somehow got twisted up in the cords. You went over to help him while Dennis packed everything else.

"Here, let me. Snatching on it isn't gonna get you anywhere."

Without thinking, you lifted his shirt and put your hand under it to pull the cords. Your fingers grazed his abs and suddenly you were very aware of what you were doing.

"Oh, sorry," your face was scorching from embarrassment.

"It is okay. Thank you for helping," he said softly.

You were finally able to get him untangled and put everything away. You helped Dennis carry some of his equipment and you headed out to his truck.

"Oh shoot, I think I left my phone," you ruffled through your bag. "Go ahead, I'll catch up," you turned around and headed back inside to the locker room.

You were in such a hurry that you didn't even see Victor standing on the other side of the door when you snatched it open. You crashed into his solid frame. Just like the last time, he reached out to catch you.

"Oh my goodness, thank you," you said as he stood you back upright.

He didn't say anything back. He just stood there and watched you.

"I, um, I think I left my phone in here," you pushed past him.

His staring was making you uncomfortable and not in a bad way, which made you even more uncomfortable.

You searched around the areas where the phone should have been. You could see Victor from the corner of your eye just standing there.

"Well, if you're gonna stay, can you at least help me out?"

"How did you know I would understand you?" He asked.

"Because I knew your dad was lying and just wanted to hover over you during the interview. Can I see your phone, so I can call mine?" You walked over to him.

He handed you the phone, "He means well, my father. He's very protective. I am his only son."

When you unlocked the screen you froze to stare at the wallpaper. A picture of Ivan after his win against your father.

He noticed your hesitation.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to —"

"No, it's fine," you said and dialed your number.

You saw the light from the screen across the room and went over to grab it. You handed Victor his phone and was on your way out when you felt his large hand grab yours.

"I know being around us must be hard for you, but you have been kind the whole time. Thank you."

"I wanted to get to know who you were on my own. And you're actually not so bad." You reached up and cupped his face.

He leaned into your touch. It wasn't everyday that someone showed him sincere affection. He couldn't stop himself, he lifted your chin and pressed his lips to yours.

He gave you the softest most gentle kiss you'd ever received. You pushed your tongue into his mouth. He grabbed your ass and squeezed it as he pulled you close.

You heard a noise behind you and pulled back. You looked down the hall, but didn't see anyone.

"Uh, I should go," you hurried away.

"What kept you?" Dennis asked, when you finally made it back outside.

"Couldn't find the phone, Viktor helped me look for it."

"Viktor, huh?" He raised a brow.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means your lipstick is smudged," he pointed.

"What?!" You hurried to look at your reflection, but your makeup was intact. "Very funny! Get that stuff over to editing for me and make sure Oliver reads all of my notes, please?"

"You got it, I'll see you tomorrow."

You got in your vehicles and left. You were exhausted, confused and... horny. You knew kissing Victor was wrong and you should've stopped it, but you didn't. You shook it off. It was just a kiss. It would never happen again.

You were awakened by your phone vibrating, you looked over at your clock and then back at your phone. What could Dennis possibly want at this hour?

"Somebody had better be dying," you answered.

"Are you kidding right now?" He started, "did you approve this final edit?"

"What? No, I didn't post anything."

"Well someone did and I have a feeling that you aren't gonna like it."

You grabbed your tablet and pulled up the Instagram page for your station. Sure enough the interview you'd done with Viktor had been posted. You watched the video in horror. Even though he was your family's sworn enemy, this was not the side of Victor that you wanted to show the world.

They'd only posted the parts of the interview when he was being snippy. Then you read the comments.

"It's funny how she tries to make him look bad on camera, but had no problems kissing him when she thought no one was looking 🙄"

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Someone saw you and took pictures. That must've been the noise you'd heard. You hurried through blogs to see who had it posted. Everyone. Everyone had a photo of you kissing Victor Drago in a dark locker room.

"We can get in front of this, don't panic." He advised.

"Adonis is gonna kill me. My brother will never speak to me again." Your breath caught in your throat.

"No, honey, you can't help who you have feelings for."

"Victor's gonna think I sabotaged him on purpose. Who posted this? Why would they do this?" You choked.

"People are evil and will do anything for a dollar," he sighed. "I'm sorry I had to tell you like this, but I didn't want you to be caught off guard in the morning."

"Thank you, Dennis. I'll see you tomorrow." You hung up and headed to your mother's room.

You knocked softly before entering and then crawled into bed with her.

"Well, you haven't done this in a while. What's wrong?" She asked.

You just showed her the photo. Mary Anne was usually pretty good about holding it together, but you heard the gasp leave her mouth.

"What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't..."

"You've never done anything this reckless before. You're risking everything you've worked for." She scolded.

"Momma, I don't care about that. Adonis is gonna be so pissed." You swiped your tears.

"Adonis? Oh my sweet girl," she wrapped her arms around you. "Your brother will get over it. You worry about your career and what you've built."

You laid in your mother's arms. Your mind was racing with thoughts of how you could fix this. You couldn't lie and say the picture was photoshopped, but you could explain to Viktor that editors had screwed you royally. After an hour you drifted off to sleep. You'd figure out in the morning.

********

@titty-teetee

@bluestarego

@literaturefeen

@rochyu

#viktor drago x reader #viktor x reader #Viktor Drago #creed 2 #Lotusss Writes

244 notes · View notes

wienerbarnes · 4 years

Text

Feel Good

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 2,817

Warnings: lots o drinking (its new years!), mentions to being nervous/self-doubt, drunk sam wilson, perhaps some smooching idk guess u gotta read it man

A/N: ngl I have like 4 cheek to cheek one shots that I wrote yesterday instead of working on school work or art commissions so lets enjoy this before that motivation spark dies okay enjoy my two fav ppl ever

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

“Agent 51, stay behind, please.”

You meet Sam’s eye, confused for two reasons - this was supposed to be a quick debriefing after a mission, and he’s never called you out specifically before. You give him a nod and obligatory Yes, Captain before making eyes with Sharon, who gives you a quick smile before exiting the room with the other agents. That doesn’t give you anything. Is there already another mission? But if there was another mission, wouldn’t Sharon have stayed? Wouldn’t Bucky be here? Does it involve Bucky? Does-

“I want you to start training with the other recruits when they begin next week.” Sam informs you once the door closes behind the last person.

Oh.

This Friday is New Year’s Eve, meaning Monday begins the seven-week training led by Sergeant Barnes for wannabe Avengers Agents, before whoever remains continues on to undercover and psychological training with Sharon and other legendary retired agents of the field.

“Are you... sure?” You didn’t think there was a problem with the training you were currently doing with Sam, in fact, you thought you were doing pretty good for someone who hasn't followed a strict workout regimen in ten years. This would be the first time being around so many people with a greater chance of interacting. All of the meetings you go to have made you a little more comfortable with larger crowds, but you haven’t actually spoken to anyone.

“You know your file well?”

“Yes.”

“Then, yes, I’m sure.”

“I want you to continue your training with me on the weekends, though.” Sam adds.

Working out seven days a week? I might’ve considered prison if I knew this was a part of the deal.

“Won’t all of that all the time be hard?” You offer, suddenly scared for your biceps and hamstrings.

“Are you asking me if training to become a team member of the Avengers is hard?” Sam gives you a pointed look.

“...Right.” You stand, assuming that was all he had to tell you about.

“Also, there’s a little party Friday night. Nothing crazy, just me, Sharon, Bucky, Sharon and I are bringing some dates, maybe a few agents, but they usually go out and party. They don’t want to hang out with us more than they already have to around here.” He mentions as you reach the door.

Your hand pauses on the knob. A party. What if they pull some Carrie shit on you?

“A party?” You ask, eyebrows failing to conceal your silent fears as they tilt upward at him.

“I promise, it won’t be anything insane. I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I didn’t think it was something you could handle.” He reassures.

Friday comes sooner than you’d hoped, and your anxiety still lingers, as much as you’d hoped it’d go away by now. You glance at the time, 8:00 in the evening. This was the time Sam told you everything would more or less be starting, but that you could go whenever you wanted, if you wanted.

You’ve actually been ready for about an hour, just too scared to go to the common area where everything was taking place.

You feel like you’re a teenager again; being invited to an event where you feel as though you won’t belong. An event where you know that everyone is so drastically different than you. You wonder how you would feel if you were different; if you weren’t so fucked up with trauma. Would you be a party person? Drinking and dancing through your twenties? Hooking up with men and women, maybe even having relationships?

You’re dressed in a short lilac romper, layers of silky ruffles around the tops of your thighs, and thin straps across your shoulders that cross against your back. The neckline is a tad low, a complimenting V that you’ve filled with layers of necklaces. Nude platforms put you about two inches taller without the fear of a heel, and you’re nervously picking at your recently painted green fingernails in anticipation for what the night will bring.

It’s not too late to not go. You can just tell Sam you ended up not feeling well, tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. not to let anyone bother you. Just take all these clothes off and put on your pajamas, and we can pretend you haven’t been thinking about this night for the last three days and spent all day thinking about what you’re going to wear, how you’re going to act, reviewing your file just in case anyone asks you anything - we can just pretend you were going to be staying in the whole time.

You stand to begin slipping the straps from your shoulders, mind made up, when a knock sounds at the door.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., who is that?” You whisper out.

“It’s Sergeant Barnes, Agent.” The A.I. relays in an equally hushed voice.

You sigh and walk over to the door before opening it a few inches.

“Hey! You look so cute! Party’s getting started, let's go!” He steps back out to the hallway, an excited smile on his face which drops when he focuses more on the frown that decorates your own face.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, immediately stepping back towards you.

“... I’m nervous.” You all but whimper out. Why do you have to be such a baby?

“Why are you nervous?” Bucky asks, his voice calm as he genuinely wants to know what’s troubling you, not an accusatory tone found in his voice.

“Because there’s going to be a lot of people, and I don’t know anyone, and I’ve never been to these kinds of parties, or at least I haven’t in, like, a decade.” You ramble, exasperated with yourself.

“Would it make you feel better if I stayed with you the whole night? Either here or down at the party?” He offers, ready to give up one of his favorite nights for you.

“Bucky, I’m not going to make you -”

“You’re not making me, I’m offering. Besides, Sam’s all over the girl he brought and Sharon’s halfway drunk with her little boyfriend; they’re not going to be much fun for me tonight.” Bucky justifies, sounding like the eldest of three having to deal with their younger siblings.

“C’mon, you’re really gonna waste a dress like that? And your hair looks all nice! And - wait a minute, are those new earrings?” Bucky butters you, showering you with compliments in a sweet tone, metal hand reaching out to touch at the earrings hanging from your ears, the small tink sounding right in your ear.

A girlish giggle escapes you at his teasing. “Alright, alright, you’ve convinced me. But you promise you don’t mind staying with me all night?”

“I promise, there’s no one else I’d rather spend the night with.”

The common area isn’t how you expected it to be; there’s definitely more people than Sam promised there’d be, but it’s not the thousands of strangers you’d imagined in your head.

“Let’s get a drink,” Bucky’s deep voice speaks in your ear, and you’re not sure if it's his voice that makes you shiver or his warm hand in yours, but the two of you make your way to the bar.

“What do you drink?” He asks you, after ordering the name of some drink for himself.

“Uhm - I don’t, I don’t know.” You mutter to him. He scans your face for a second before rattling off the name of some other drink to the person behind the bar.

You never really drank; sure, you had the shitty beer as a teenager or perhaps a celebratory shot during your time in the Navy, but nothing you remember explicitly. You weren’t even old enough to drink in the Navy, you had turned twenty-one when you were already with HYDRA.

“Are you excited?” Bucky interrupts your thoughts of lost childhood.

“Excited?”

“For the New Year!” Bucky exclaims, and you give him a smile even if you don't understand the hoop-lah.

“Sure?” You offer.

“C’mon! There’s so much opportunity and promise that comes with a new year! A million chances to grow, to experience things, to learn, to have fun. A new chapter for everyone.” He explains.

You smile at his positivity. A new year should be good for you based on his logic. A new chapter. You’d be starting your training. Getting ahead as an agent. Using your powers to help for good. Maybe making friends. Maybe getting closer to Bucky.

The drinks arrive and you appreciate that Bucky knows you so well; the drink in front of you is bright pink, different fruits crowded around the rim with a curly straw sticking out. His is a deeper brown, in a short, crystal glass, figures. Matches his whole dark and emo aesthetic. He stands before you in black jeans and a black buttoned shirt, black leather jacket to sit on top.

You take a sip of your drink and immediately have to slap a hand over your mouth to keep from spitting it out. Am I that much of a lightweight or is there actual gasoline in this?

“Sorry, maybe I should’ve warned you, babe,” Bucky chuckles, amused at your reaction to a mixed drink. “I think there’s, like, four different things in that.” He wants to cringe for you, but all he can do is look at you with a cheeky smile while you struggle to swallow the sip down.

“Christ, Bucky, I’ll blackout by ten at this rate, are all of the drinks like this?”

“Honestly? Probably. Everyone loves getting drunk on New Year’s.”

…

The night is not nearly as bad as you were thinking it was going to be. The room is lit up in different colored lights and screens; all of the TV’s display the annual countdown in Times Square but are muted so that music can be played the whole night. People are dancing, drinking, laughing, having the most fun you’ve seen people have in a long time. It’s 11:51 now, and everyone’s gathering closer and closer in anticipation for the countdown into the new year.

You and Bucky are gathered together with Sam and Sharon, and their respective dates. You don’t think you’ll let Sam live down how drunk he is; you never thought you’d feel so much joy seeing your Captain slurring his words while making jokes and telling stories.

Sharon leans over to you and whispers, a gentle hand on your arm, “Can you come to the bathroom with me?” A small giggle escaping her because she, too, is equally drunk. You give her a nod and hand your drink to Bucky to watch over while you’re gone.

The bathroom makes your ears buzz with the silence you encounter and Sharon walks over to the mirror to retouch her makeup.

“I just needed a little breather, have you tried the drinks at the bar?” She asks, and you laugh knowing that that’s the reason she, and everyone else at the party, is wasted.

“Yeah, Bucky proceeded to warn me after I had started drinking.” Laughs are shared as she reapplies her lipstick, a bright red shade.

“Do you know who you’re gonna kiss tonight?” She asks, smirk playing on her lips.

Shit, I forgot about that. How awkward would it be if you’re the only one not having a partner to kiss at midnight? Don’t worry, plenty of lame, single, psychotic basket cases that hear voices don’t kiss people on New Year’s Eve!

“Oh, uhm, I probably won’t be kissing anybody.” You inform her with a nervous laugh.

“I think you should kiss Bucky.” She states matter-of-factly.

“Huh?”

“Yeah, why not? He’s not here with a date and he surely won’t kiss a stranger. I think last year Sam ended up planting one on him at midnight.” She laughs, a few hiccups interrupting her as she remembers that night.

As much as you want to join her in laughing at the thought of Sam drunkenly grabbing Bucky cheeks at midnight and smooching him, a pit opens up in your stomach at the thought of kissing Bucky.

“C’mon, T-minus five minutes.” Sharon tells you, interlocking her fingers with yours as she drags you back out to the common room.

The two of you rejoin the group and Bucky hands you your drink back, though you don’t feel much like drinking anymore, stomach suddenly knotted up with nerves. You’re torn because you don’t necessarily have a problem not kissing anybody, but now all you can think about is the urge to press your lips against Bucky’s, new year or not.

A husky voice whispers in your ear, “You okay? You look a little pale, you wanna head up to your room?” Bucky looks at you with concerned eyes, willing to go up to your room two minutes before midnight to ensure your comfort and wellbeing.

“I’m… I’m fine.” You reassure him, giving him the most unconvincing smile ever, even you wouldn’t believe you. He silently pulls you away from the group and pulls you into a hallway.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.”

His pet names are, for once, not helping right now.

You take a large gulp of your drink, stinging a bit, but hopefully it’ll give you some courage and relax you a bit. Bucky chuckles and gently takes the glass from your hand, “Hey,”

“I’m fine, just have some jitters, is all.” You try and convince.

You take the drink back and grab his hand with your open one and take him back out to the open area, a sixty second countdown already starting.

You quickly down the rest of your drink and discard it on a nearby table as the entire room begins chanting. Sam is the loudest, one arm wrapped around the waist of his date and the other wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky’s smiling at his enthusiasm, yelling the numbers just as loud as he wraps an arm around your shoulders to bring you in closer to the group. Sharon is on the other side of you, but her focus is on her date as they look into each other’s eyes, just waiting for the clock to strike twelve so they can share a kiss.

The ball drops on the TV and the room erupts in cheers and “Happy New Year!”’s. Sam unhooks himself from Bucky and turns to grab his date's face as they share a laugh-filled kiss. You glance at Sharon and you suspect her and her date began sharing kisses a few seconds early. Bucky’s arm is still wrapped around your shoulders and he tugs you closer so you’re face to face.

His grin is wide, “Happy New Year -”

His excitement is interrupted as your courage finally kicks in, and with a hand on either side of his face, you pull him in and press your lips to his.

It takes him less than two seconds to reciprocate, dropping his hands to your waist and pulling you closer as your hands slide from his cheeks to his neck, wrapping themselves around.

There’s no more anxiety. No more nerves. No more doubts or second-thoughts. No more voices, no more people in the room, no more music; it’s just you and Bucky in that moment.

His lips are soft and sweet, a strong taste of the drinks he’s had tonight with a mix of sweetness that’s all him. He smells like man and like Bucky and your senses are overwhelmed in the best way possible. Tingles travel down your spine at the feeling of being so close to him.

You’re so, so, so good. Sure, Bucky’s imagined kissing you, but he never thought it’d feel like this. You’re sweet like cherries and you’re soft all over and your perfume is flooding his nose and it’s all he wants to breathe for the rest of time. Your skin sends sparks of fire through his fingertips as they rest on your bare back and slide down to your silk-covered waist.

You pull away and Bucky sneaks a few extra pecks before pulling away completely, not removing his eyes from yours.

“Happy New Year.” He wishes you with a love-sick smile.

“Happy New -”

“Happy New Year, Tinman!” Sam yelps in both of your ears, arms wrapping around Bucky and disconnecting him from you, but you can’t help but laugh at Sam trying to plant a kiss on Bucky’s cheek while he attempts to wrestle him off.

You feel electricity all over watching him, butterflies not only in your stomach, but all over your body, in every organ, in your bloodstream, in your head, everywhere. But as much as you feel as though you’ve been struck by lightning, you feel good; you feel really good.

A few months ago, you wouldn't have imagined that this is how you were going to be starting the new year. But here you are, and you feel good.

#bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes one shot #Bucky Barnes fan fiction #marvel #marvel fan fiction #he he kissy kissy #you know those tik toks of people kissing their best friends with electric love playing in the background #that was reader and bucky #so ~magical~

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shedreamsofstars · 4 years

Text

darts, drinks and dirty tricks

It’s games night in East City, and Jean Havoc has a plan. Not only will he win the evening’s betting pool, but he’ll also have the satisfaction of pulling a fast one over on Lieutenant Hawkeye to claim the position of best sharpshooter for the night.

Dangerous territory? Absolutely. Provided he succeeds that is.

Colonel Roy Mustang however has no plans to let his subordinate steal his First Lieutenant’s sharpshooting crown right off her pretty little head. At least, not without throwing a dirty trick of his own into the mix.

... xxx ...

It was a typically warm and humid East City evening as Colonel Mustang stood up at his desk, his hair a mess of dark strands that perfectly complemented the tired expression on his face.

By any outside account, it would seem as if he had just finished up a long hard day of rigorous paperwork, when the reality was much closer to him having just woken up from an impromptu two-hour nap.

“Well,” Roy said brightly, stretching his arms above his head before retaking his seat. “I don’t know about you guys, but after the day I’ve had, I am in dire need of a drink to unwind.”

There was a general murmur of agreement from his subordinates. “Isn’t it games night?” Falman piped up, poking his head over the large stack of papers in front of him.

“It sure is. So … what are we betting on tonight?”

His First Lieutenant stood attentive to his right, and although she might have been out of his direct line of sight, Roy could already feel her rolling her eyes at him and he sunk further into his seat in satisfaction.

Despite her obvious distaste of gambling, Riza Hawkeye was content to let the boys throw their money at each other so long as they kept her out of it - which they almost never did.

The Colonel eyed the members of his team sprawled haphazardly across their desks with a level look. “I believe it’s your turn to choose the evening’s entertainment Fuery,” he said eventually, turning towards the baby-faced Sergeant and raising an expectant brow.

Cain Fuery squirmed under the Colonel’s gaze, as he was prone to do when put on the spot, and Roy could almost see the different options for the night flashing in his glasses. After an impatient sigh from somewhere across the room, most likely Breda, the Master Sergeant’s face lit up.

“How about a game of darts, Sir?”

Falman and Breda groaned collectively, both notoriously terrible shots, but one sharp look from the First Lieutenant was enough to have them commending the Master Sergeant with an appreciation bordering on grovelling.

It was amusing to say the least, but Roy found his gaze drawn to the corner desk where his Second Lieutenant, Jean Havoc, sat chewing his cigarette with a conniving smirk plastered on his face.

“Darts, huh,” he mused softly, clearly conjuring up some sort of plan in that uniquely chaotic mind of his. Roy couldn’t be sure what his subordinate was thinking, but he had the odd feeling that it had something to do with the nights betting pool.

If he let Havoc have his way, he was fairly certain the sharpshooter would be reigning victorious at the end of the night.

Roy didn’t like the thought of that one bit. And not only because his underling would lord it over them for weeks. He glanced sidelong at Hawkeye, their reigning champion, and his brows furrowed.

Before he could let himself dwell on the feeling, Roy forced himself to stand. “Well, now that that’s settled,” he started with a clap, itching to leave the musty office for somewhere livelier. “Who’s driving?”

The military car rattled noisily as Havoc sped through the busy Friday night traffic, the First Lieutenant sitting in the passenger seat whilst the other four piled into the back.

Whenever he was in charge of driving, Hawkeye refused to sit anywhere other than beside him – likely so she could yell at him whenever his irresponsible driving endangered others, which he had to admit was more often than not.

As he caught sight of the woman’s stony expression, it seemed today was no different.

So far he’d already been berated twice for manoeuvring the vehicle too close to pedestrians, and he only grinned widely as he corrected his steering. He took it all in his stride, but even with someone keeping an eye on him, Havoc’s driving was still borderline reckless.

The team arrived at their local bar in record time, much to the First Lieutenants dismay. Havoc parked up on a quiet road beside the establishment, patting himself on the back for fitting the car into such a tight spot. He frowned at the dark heavy clouds hovering above them for a moment before joining the others as they filed into the building.

The group grabbed their preferred drinks, Hawkeye sticking with a lemon water, before congregating on the sofas towards the back, set out beside an old dart board nailed precariously to the wall.

"What are we playing again?” Havoc asked, shedding as much of his uniform as was appropriate in a public setting before taking a seat, leaving him in a tight black tee and his standard issue trousers.

“Six-oh-one, straight in" Fuery clarified.

“Sweet,” he murmured, turning to see the Colonel watching him with a peculiar expression. “What’s up boss, worried I’m gonna beat you?”

Mustang shrugged his shoulders half-heartedly before draping himself over the sofa. “Not one bit Havoc. You’re all going down anyway.”

“Fighting words,” he said with a low whistle. “You can’t snap your way to victory tonight. You sure you wanna subject yourself to the embarrassment of losing to one of your own sharpshooters?” Havoc joked, flashing his own skill set before his superior.

“I don’t recall ever mentioning myself,” Roy said smugly. “My money’s on Hawkeye,” he said, garnering a disappointed shake of the head from the woman in question.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about her winning,” Havoc taunted. “What about you boys?”

Breda went with Hawkeye and Fuery with Mustang, whilst Havoc managed to convince Falman to go with him. He wouldn’t mind splitting the winnings in the end if it meant he had someone’s confidence.

With the bets placed, the games began.

One by one, the team started several rounds of Fuery’s chosen game. Some time and several drinks later, Mustang collapsed onto the sofa beside Havoc with a pout.

“It would seem that Hawkeye remains the undefeated champion,” he said, clearly sulking at having been obliterated by the woman. "You're gonna need all the luck you can muster if you think you can take her on."

Havoc grinned at his superior. From the Colonels reaction, you wouldn’t think the guy had money riding on Hawkeye’s victory.

“Don’t worry about me, Sir. I’ve been watching her play all night, and I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out a strategy to take down the Hawk’s Eye.”

"Oh really?" Mustang asked, an eyebrow raised in clear amusement. "And how exactly do you plan on defeating my First Lieutenant?"

Havoc sat up a little, chewing at the end of his unlit cigarette. “The trick is to get under your opponents’ skin,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, is that all,” Mustang scoffed, his dark eyes drifting over where Hawkeye and Fuery were clearing the board for the next game. Of them all, Mustang knew the First Lieutenant the best, so he had good reason to believe that Havoc had no clue what he was doing.

But Havoc had known and observed the woman long enough to have an idea of things that would likely affect her in some way. And he only needed something to work once.

“That is all. Wish me luck Boss,” he said, stashing his cigarette into his pocket as he stood and waved towards the two members still at the dart board. “Alright, I’m up next Hawkeye!” he called, grabbing some spare darts off of Falman before joining them.

Hawkeye nodded to Havoc in a friendly manner as she rolled her own darts along her fingers. “After you, Second Lieutenant.”

“Are you ever gonna call me Jean?” Havoc grinned as he stepped up to the firing spot. When she didn’t respond, he merely shrugged and fired off his shot without warning. He smiled smugly as his dart scored him a triple twenty.

He vacated the space, using both hands to welcome his opponent up to the spot. He watched with eager eyes as Riza Hawkeye threw the first of her darts with all the aim and precision to be expected of the Hawk’s Eye and bagged herself a matching triple twenty, just as Havoc had expected.

“Would you look at that Hawkeye. It seems we’ve got the same game plan here.”

“I don’t think so Second Lieutenant. Mine ends with me winning,” she said plainly as the others hooted behind them.

Havoc worked his jaw with a grimace. “Well, then I guess it’s time to shake things up,” he said, flexing his fingers as he readied himself for the next shot. The game was on.

With a soft breath, he released his dart and it landed with a sharp thump on the dartboard.

He grinned widely at Hawkeye, totalling his current score before stepping aside to make room for her. As the woman raised her arm to fire, Havoc casually stepped towards her.

“Hey Hawkeye, you know your hair would look beautiful if you were to wear it down from time to time,” he said, voice low so only she could hear. He wore his best flirty pout, but from the sidelong glance she flashed him, she’d already clocked he was attempting to goad her.

She let off her shot without a single hitch, watching with narrowed eyes as it arced through the air and slammed onto the board, exactly where Havoc’s had landed. From the small smile she flashed at him, his words had had no effect – her shot had still hit exactly where she’d intended.

Shaking off his first failed attempt at distracting her, Havoc took another shot. He’d have to try harder to get to her next time.

When she got ready to fire again, Havoc talked about how mysterious she was, and that half the bar couldn’t help but stare at her - all stuff in his arsenal that would usually have girls swooning at him – but it had no effect on his colleague. Hawkeye only looked him dead in the eye as she fired, equalling the score between them with minimal effort for a second time.

As Havoc’s jaw hit the ground, the woman merely smirked at him. “You're gonna have to try harder than that Second Lieutenant.”

Havoc bit the inside of his cheek. If he played his shots right, he could win the game in two shots, but not if she kept matching him dart for dart. He had to get both shots perfect and get her to throw at least one, otherwise the night was done.

Glancing back at the sofa, he saw the team watching the two of them. Falman and Fuery gave him a thumbs up as he went to throw, whilst Breda gave the slightly more appreciated middle finger. Havoc couldn’t help but notice that Mustang wasn’t looking at him at all. The man’s gaze seemed to be stuck somewhere to his right where …

He hid his grin behind his hand as he spun to face the dart board again. It seemed like he’d found himself a trump card after all.

His threw his shot, and whilst Hawkeye was lining up her own, he took the opportunity to lean in towards her. She threw him a confused glance as he remained silent, but he knew that his timing had to be just right.

He waited patiently for her to pull the shot back, and right as she was about to release it, he struck.

“Say, how long have you and Mustang been together?”

He knew he had her under his thumb the minute her eyes widened in surprise, disrupting her focus enough that her hand slipped and messed with her aim. The dart he knew would have otherwise landed on the same spot as his own flew through the air wildly and landed on the outer edge of the board, giving him the edge he needed to win.

"Oohoo, Lieutenant,” he taunted. “What a shot!" he said, hopping in the spot with glee. A part of him couldn’t quite believe that his plan had even worked at all, and it became even more unbelievable when Hawkeye turned to him with a look of pure annoyance on that usually blank face of hers.

“The Colonel and I aren’t together.”

Havoc whistled low. "I only meant to ask how long you two have known each other Hawkeye. No need to get all worked up over it." He clicked his tongue softly and the First Lieutenant gave him a dark look, warning him against his next words.

He bit his tongue and Hawkeye simply sighed, blowing her hair out of her face before giving up the firing position. As Havoc took up the mantle to shoot, he knew he would have to get the shot perfect.

He knew his limits and getting this far on Riza Hawkeye’s bad side was more than enough for him to handle. Any more and it would definitely not be worth the payoff.

Her reaction at least confirmed something Havoc thought to himself, although he was too focused on winning the game to quite place what it was. As he lifted up his dart to his line of sight, he couldn’t help but give one final retort, knowing that this would be the final shot that brought him victory.

“Thank you Lieutenant. I believe you’ve just given me a solid win over almost everyone behind us,” he said loudly, his gaze drifting to the sofa. Everyone was watching him with bated breath, but he couldn’t help but notice that Mustang was the only one frowning.

Was he really that mad at losing the pool?

Havoc shook off the thought. “One bulls eye coming up,” he stated, making sure to aim for the fifty points that would bring his score down to zero.

Any higher or lower and the game was forfeit.

If he went too high he'd lose by default and going too low would give Hawkeye the chance to match his score again and end the game in a tie. He'd distracted her once tonight already, and he highly doubted she'd fall for it again. Besides, he already knew she'd find some way to get back at him for his words earlier and he was reluctant to dig himself in deeper.

Steadying his nerves and shaking hand, he pulled back to fire when he heard an unexpected name from his side.

“Catalina, what in god’s name are you wearing?!”

Havoc couldn’t help it. Even though he knew not to trust anything Mustang said at any point in the game, he turned without thought to see where the man was looking. The dart flew out of his hands without aim and he turned back just in time to see it veering off course and lodging into a wooden beam in the wall.

Fuck.

Damn that Mustang, he groaned internally. And damn that Catalina too, this was all her fault after all. He turned back to the bar behind him to scan the faces around them and berate her, but no matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t see Rebecca anywhere.

So what exactly had the Colonel-

It took one look at the man’s half hidden smirk for Havoc to know what was up. It seemed he wasn’t the only one playing dirty to win tonight. Hawkeye was too proper to fight fire with fire, but it seemed their superior had no such qualms.

Fuck.

He knew even before the First Lieutenant stood to take her next shot that the game was over. Having gained no points this round, she would easily knock her score to zero in the next round and tie with him.

Having already given up, Havoc fired half-heartedly during his next turn and barely hit the board, his score still too high to win. When Hawkeye got the bullseye she needed to hit zero, he heard the sofa behind him, who had all been holding their breath in anticipation, burst into life.

Havoc clicked his tongue in defeat, pulling out his cigarette as Fuery and Falman burst into celebratory whoops – he didn’t know why either of them were so excited since neither of them had placed their bets on Hawkeye, but who was he to judge.

A win was a win after all.

When Fuery thrust Hawkeyes hand in the air and named her the reigning champion, Havoc knew he’d need several drinks to take away the sharp sting of defeat. How did he play dirty, come so close, and then still end up losing?

It was embarrassing when he thought about it.

As he passed by the sofa on his way to the bar, the Colonel caught his eye with a smug smile. Havoc continued walking right past him without commenting on it. He was much too sober to be engaging in a dispute with his superior officer, that was for sure.

The rain splashed against the windows of the car with a rhythmic drumming, accompanied by the occasional swish of the wipers as Riza drove to the East City Barracks – the others having been too inebriated to even attempt to get behind the wheel.

Sergeant Fuery had called shotgun, and within seconds of sitting down, had proceeded to fall asleep against the door and add his light snores to the already loud weather outside.

Behind her, she could hear the other four bickering about their winnings, or losings, for the night. Well, Havoc seemed to be the only one bickering, the others were either gloating or attempting to keep from falling asleep.

“You know what I don’t even care anymore,” Havoc slurred, having attempted to drown his loss with his cup. “I had that win in that bag till you threw me off at the end. Why’d you do it Boss. Is it cause you really do have a thing for Hawkeye, huh?”

Riza tried her hardest to keep her eyes on the road, but she couldn’t resist peeking at rear-view mirror. Havoc was staring at their superior with a narrowed gaze, half leaning over the top of Falman who looked half a second away from passing out.

The Colonel’s face was blank and unreadable. He said nothing, responding only by lifting a wad of cash out from his pocket and waving it at Havoc in answer. The Second Lieutenant had the gall to look disappointed as his head bounced between Breda and Mustang, the two winners of the night, and she shook her head softly as she returned her eyes to the road.

The back of the car fell silent not long after, and Riza got the distinct impression that it was because they’d all fallen asleep. But when she glanced behind to confirm, she was met with a pair of dark eyes that watched her with an intense look.

The Colonel’s lips quirked into a little smile as she caught him, but he didn’t look away. Her gaze flitted between the road and the mirror, but his eyes remained on her up until the moment the car came to a halt and the others began to stir.

The group fell out of the car and straight into the dreary late night, with not a single one of them prepared enough to have brought along an umbrella. They shivered as the cold rain washed away their sleepiness, bidding their farewells as quickly as possible before beginning the short run to their barracks.

Mustang however hung back. Riza could feel his gaze on her as she locked up the car, and he fell into step with her as she began to walk.

“You didn’t have to wait for me Colonel. We’re headed in different directions,” she pointed out.

Mustang merely shrugged. His hair was already so soaked with rainwater that it clung to his forehead, and Riza had no doubt that her own was doing something similar. Although, she wasn’t the one with the aversion to water.

They walked together in silence, pausing at the edge of the street where they would part ways. She was about to wish him a goodnight when his hand landed firmly on her shoulder, keeping her from leaving.

“Hang on a second Lieutenant,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the wad of cash he’d waved at Havoc earlier. “Your winnings for the night.”

“I didn’t join the bet, Sir,” she clarified, refusing the money.

“Yeah, but I figure since you’re the only reason I won you should get a cut. You could buy yourself some nice flowers or something.”

“No thank you, Sir. It’s yours, you should spend it on whatever you like.”

“Can I spend it on flowers for you?”

“Roy, no,” she retorted. “I mean, Sir.”

Riza’s face burned hot at the momentary slip, but her superior officer barely seemed to care. As she looked up at him through her lashes, she saw him pouting like a child as he replaced the money in his coat pocket.

He turned to her with a sigh. “I suppose you’ll be going now.”

“Yes. Good night, Colonel.”

Mustang gave her a curt nod, but the smile that accompanied it made her dread having to answer the door in the morning for fear of drowning in blooms. She really hoped he wasn’t being serious about the flowers.

“Good night, Riza.”

...xxx...

thank you so much for reading! please excuse the terrible title, i have no brain power left to think of anything good lol. i've been trying to write this since 2017 and it's finally done! i still know next to nothing about darts though. thanks again, and i'd love to know your thoughts if you have the time x

#royai #royai fanfiction #fma #fma fanfiction #darts drinks and dirty tricks

23 notes · View notes

rainandhotchocolate · 4 years

Text

Winter Ball

A/N HELLO it’s DAY 10 (even though it’s 11 oops), here is the first fic for the day! I thought I’d mix it up a bit and do a gxg one so here is a Narcissa x reader fic cause why the hell not, and also @malfoy has gotten me onto the Narcissa fic track and im a mess.

It is very smutty just an FYI (also sorry I have v little experience in the gxg area so feel free to give me some feedback!)

Enjoy xx

Y/N stared at herself in the mirror, fiddling with her hair. The dorm room was quiet around her, and she knew she should really be getting going before everything started, but she couldn’t help watching to see if there’s anything out of place.

She was wearing a long dark green gown, strapless with small sparkling stars on the sweetheart bust and the remaining silk falling down to her ankles in a soft silhouette. She’d picked it out months ago with her mum in Diagon Alley but now she was wearing it, hair and makeup done, she felt nervous.

Y/N took in a deep breath, steeling herself before turning away from the mirror and walking determinedly down towards the common room. It was nearly empty, Christmas decorations hanging across the fireplace and snowflakes hanging in the air around the green Slytherin common room, fake snow blanketing the windowsills. Y/N slipped out of the room quickly, not wanting anyone to comment on her slinky dress and twinkling black heels and make her even more nervous.

This wasn’t exactly Y/N’s element. She could normally be found in much more… casual clothes. She barely could be seen in anything but black or blue jeans when she wasn’t in her uniform, and baggy jumpers were a staple.

Her heels clicked loudly down the hallway as she moved quickly towards the staircase that led to the Great Hall which had been transformed into a dance floor for the evening. There had been an announcement a month previous regarding the introduction of a winter ball, where you could choose to bring someone and stay over Christmas to enjoy winter festivities and a live band. Only fourth years and above were permitted entry unless you were invited by an older student, and students had been talking about nothing else for weeks.

Y/N reached the top of the stairs and peered out into the hallway. There were still some other students milling around the corridors surrounding the Great Hall, the doors wide open. Y/N sighed in relief, thanking Merlin that she wasn’t going to make some grand entrance into the ball and pushing herself to move forward and towards the doorway.

Y/N felt herself let out a small gasp at the sight of the Great Hall, stepping into the side to avoid the main walkway into the dance floor. The four tables that normally took up the majority of the room had disappeared, replaced with hundreds of small round tables covered in gleaming white tablecloths and floral centrepieces that seemed to be covered in snow. In fact, the entire room looked like it had been coated with a layer of fresh snow, the dance floor looking like ice, gleaming brightly underneath large ornate chandeliers covering the ceiling. There were ice sculptures of each house mascot in different areas of the room, which seemed to move when a student walked passed.

“It’s amazing isn’t it,” someone had sidled up to Y/N as she stood in awe of the decorations. Y/N turned to see Narcissa Black, dressed in a silvery-white gown that matched her hair which was curled loosely down her back. She looked angelic, though Y/N knew she was usually quite the opposite.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that about anything,” Y/N smirked, turning to face her. Narcissa rolled her eyes.

“I’m allowed to be positive on occasion.”

“Apparently so.”

“So, who did you come with?” Narcissa gazed pointedly at the empty space beside Y/N and back to her.

“You know I said I was going stag.”

“You just couldn’t get the courage to ask anyone out,” Narcissa raised an eyebrow turning back towards the dancefloor. Y/N followed her gaze, spotting a small group of Slytherin’s dancing to the side of the room.

“You came with Lucius then?”

“Of course, we are the perfect couple, aren’t we?” Narcissa grinned at Y/N, “He’s actually here with some Ravenclaw girl and I’ve been stalking Oliver all night.”

“Well make sure you get some photos with Lucius this time, so you don’t get killed by your parents.”

“Duly noted.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, gazing across the crowd. Whilst the ball was to integrate the houses in a fun and safe environment, the standard cliques were definitely showing across the crowd. Y/N could see the more awkward Ravenclaws standing around the drinks table chatting animatedly, the Hufflepuff Quidditch team dancing the most intensely in the centre of the dancefloor, standing dangerously close to the Gryffindor ice sculpture. There was the self-proclaimed marauders watching a group of girls from a table right next to the dancefloor, smirking stupidly at each other every few minutes.

“Care for a dance?” Narcissa turned back to Y/N, expression calm, but one hand was sidling up to Y/N’s waist. Y/N couldn’t help but let a small smile curl onto her face.

“Only if it’s going to completely destroy hetero conceptions of the world.”

“But of course.” Narcissa took Y/N’s hand and led her through the tables and onto the dancefloor. Y/N had the momentary feeling that she would slip when she stepped onto the floor but it was solid and smooth and felt natural under the tip of her heel.

Narcissa pulled her close, a hand on her waist and another on her shoulder, the way one would dance at a proper pureblood evening with a male suitor, grinning as they fell into a waltz across the room.

“I’ve not seen you in a dress before,” Narcissa spoke softly as they moved across the ice, gaining more than a few turned heads.

“I like to confuse expectations.”

“I can tell.” She spun Y/N around suddenly, pulling her in close and whispering in her ear, “You look incredible.”

Y/N felt her stomach twist in a delightfully nervous way as Narcissa pulled back, keeping her expression plain but not hiding the twinkle in her eyes that she always got when she flirted with Y/N. They continued to dance slowly with the music, people beginning to ignore them as two friends dancing together. The hum of the speakers changed as the song ended and people began moving towards the stage.

“So there will be live music huh?” Y/N watched the crowd build around them, swarming towards the stage where a curtain was currently pulled over.

“Any bets it’s someone very terrible.”

Before Y/N could answer the curtain pulled back, revealing four boys in the same black velvet robes, looking very hyped.

“Are you ready to ROCK HOGWARTS!” The lead singer screaming into the microphone, resulting in a loud response from the crowd.

“And you are right,” Y/N laughed as the crowd pushed up against the stage and the band began to play aggressively.

“I think it might be time to casually slip out,” Narcissa had hold of Y/N’s wrist and slid her out of the crowd and towards the exit of the Great Hall.

Y/N looked quickly behind her to see if anyone had seen them leave before following Narcissa’s long strides across the corridor and down some stairs that lead to the Dungeons. Y/N couldn’t help but watch as Narcissa’s dress swished from side to side with her perfect feminine walk, the one Y/N was sure she had practised in the mirror for every event her parents held.

They passed the Slytherin common room quickly, moving towards the potions classroom and where Y/N knew there was a roomy broom cupboard hopefully sitting unused and out of the way…

Narcissa spun on her heels, the silver-white dress clinging to her hips as she turned to face Y/N as Y/N came to meet her.

“Care to join me?” Narcissa nodded towards the cupboard, looking innocent enough, the gaze Y/N had seen her use countless times to get boys to do what she wanted.

“If you insist,” Y/N stepped forward, standing directly in front of Narcissa now, slightly shorter than her even in heels, leaning forwards so that their bodies were touching as Y/N opened the door behind her.

Narcissa grabbed Y/N roughly, pushing her inside and closing the door with her foot. It was dark, a soft light coming through the gaps in the door which outlined Narcissa’s curves as she stalked towards Y/N. Y/N pulled out her wand and gave a flick, a ball of light coming from the end of it and hovering above the two of them so Y/N could see Narcissa’s grinning face.

And then suddenly she was pushing her up against the back wall, kissing Y/N roughly, hands pressed against her own, lifting them up above Y/N’s head and pinning them to the wall behind her. Y/N kissed her back with equal passion, parting her lips so that Narcissa could flick a tongue against Y/N’s, both smiling into the kiss. Narcissa pulled away, swishing her long hair across her right shoulder and leaning against Y/N’s left, biting her way down Y/N’s neck and clavicle as she groaned softly, arching her back into Narcissa’s chest.

“You like that?” She cooed into Y/N’s ear, chewing on it softly.

“Yes,” Y/N gasped, closing her eyes, wanting to feel Narcissa’s hands still pushing against the wooden back wall, the soft tulle of her dress swishing against Y/N’s legs. Narcissa placed a heeled foot between Y/N’s legs, using the gap to lean further forwards.

“What else would you like?” She whispered, her voice getting rougher, less controlled. Y/N loved it when she lost control.

“Make me scream so loud you need to cover my mouth,” Y/N whispered back, grinning when she heard Narcissa’s soft moan at her words.

“How much do you like this dress?”

“Not enough to keep it on.”

Narcissa smirked, letting go of Y/N’s wrists above her head and trailing them down towards the zipper of Y/N’s dress, her long fingers trailing against her spine. Narcissa kept her eyes on Y/N, biting her lip softly as her hands reached around the back of her dress and ripped it open in one smooth moment. Y/N gasped lightly as she felt the top of the dress slip, revealing her very naked breasts heaving in front of Narcissa.

“Fuck,” Narcissa groaned, looking at her almost primitively, moving her hands around to the front of Y/N’s chest and massaging each breast softly, almost painfully slowly edging her way to each nipple before pressing a thumb on each and pressing lightly inwards, continuing to massage as Y/N felt her eyes roll back into her head. Narcissa grinned, leaning forward and sucking on one of her nipples, hard, biting down slightly when Y/N bucked her hips into Narcissa’s.

“You know, it’s really not fair that you still have this on,” Y/N breathed, looking down and Narcissa’s gown that was still very much in tact.

“I think you’re right,” She gave her an innocent look, standing upright and holding Y/N’s gaze as she unzipped her dress slowly, letting it slip the whole way down her body and onto the ground, only wearing a pale white thong.

“Not fair,” Y/N growled, giving her body a once over, feeling everything inside her tingling slightly at the sight of her porcelain, perfect skin and stunning body. Y/N let out a soft breath, but before she could take in another Narcissa had pulled the up the skirt of Y/N’s dress and picked her up with surprising ease, Y/N’s heels kicking back onto Narcissa’s hips. She pulled the skirt up higher and higher, kissing her way up Y/N’s leg slowly as Y/N reached down and gripped a large number of her shining curls in her fist, pulling back in the way she knew Narcissa liked. She responded by moving closer to Y/N and kissing the top of her vulva, making Y/N squirm.

Narcissa smiled against her leg, leaning in again and flicking a tongue across the edge of Y/N’s clitoris. Y/N moaned loudly, grabbing a hook that was sitting behind her and pushing her head against the wall as Narcissa began to flick her tongue back and forth softly but consistently over Y/N’s vulva. Every few flicks she would suck softly, making Y/N squeeze her thighs tightly around Narcissa’s head and neck and moan even louder.

“Fuck, Cissy, fuck,” Y/N gasped, squirming uncontrollably now as she felt her stomach begin to shake at Narcissa’s touch. Y/N could feel Narcissa grin but made no sign of slowing as she moved down suddenly and pushed her tongue into Y/N’s vagina.

“Merlin, I’m so close,” Y/N gasped, tightening her grip around Narcissa’s shoulders and pulling a hand through her soft, white hair. Narcissa looked up momentarily, wanting to see Y/N’s body wrapped around her own, breathing hitched, eyes wild.

She winked at Y/N before pushing Y/N closer to the wall, using her hands to push Y/N’s ass higher on her face and flicked her tongue faster against Y/N’s clitoris. Suddenly, her right hand moved away from Y/N’s body and moved up Y/N’s thigh as Narcissa licked faster and Y/N’s body shook. Narcissa pushed her index finger into Y/N’s vagina and Y/N had to stop herself from screaming Narcissa’s name loudly across the room.

“Fuck, Narcissa,” She managed, hissing into the air as her stomach shook harder, the orgasm building in her. “I want you so bad.”

Narcissa moaned into Y/N at her words and the vibration made Y/N slam her head against the wall and moan loudly, her orgasm washing over her in waves as Narcissa pulled her head away, continuing to move her finger in circles inside Y/N.

Narcissa clamped one hand against Y/N’s mouth, smirking mischievously, but the hand against her mouth just made her wetter, biting down against Narcissa’s fingers as she rode out her orgasm.

Narcissa pulled out her index finger after a moment, placing both hands around Y/N’s waist to hoist her down from the wall and around her shoulders.

They stood in silence for a moment, both breathing heavily and smiling. Y/N bit her lip as she saw Narcissa’s glistening skin, her breasts pressed against her own.

“We should probably get back before anyone wonders where we got to,” Narcissa breathed, trailing one finger along Y/N’s arm, making her shiver.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to finish you off?” Y/N placed her hand against Narcissa’s upper thigh, her lip curling as she watched Narcissa’s pristine manners disappear with a dark flash across her face.

“Later,” Narcissa grinned, pulling Y/N’s hand away and leaning in to kiss her softly. “I’ll see you after I kiss Lucius publicly goodnight.”

“Such a tease.”

“I do my best.” Narcissa pulled her dress back up, zipping it quickly before helping Y/N pull her own up and glued it back together with a flick of her wand.

“Give me five minutes,” Narcissa nodded towards the door, pulling it slightly open to check the coast was clear before slipping out silently. Y/N leaned against the door, still breathless, giving Narcissa the 5-minute gap she’d requested. Later, she’d see her again later.

Y/N smiled to herself and followed Narcissa’s steps out of the cupboard and out of sight.

Taglist: @maraudersandco @gollyderek

@northscorpio @seesaw-it @passionfruitt @depressedcoffeebean @supercuteasalily @palaisdecouture @blackpinkdolan @fashionlive15 @creepysweet @sour-patch-kid

#rainandhotchocolate #narcissa x reader #narcissa black x reader #narcissa imagine #narcissa malfoy x reader #narcissa malfoy imagine

275 notes · View notes

repulsivepangolin7 · 4 years

Text

Fic: Barbeque

A/N: Alright, so I played nice last time and I didn’t hurt anyone in that fic. Not even Luca. Well, then I made this little thing. Hope you enjoy it.

Word count: 1 782

All different sorts of meat was cooking on the grill. Hondo was taking the responsibility of chef seriously, and kept an eye on it. He had barbeque forceps in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other.

Chris sat with her legs crossed under her, she had a cold beer resting on the table in front of her.

Deacon had some whiskey in a glass in front of him, chilled down by a couple of big ice cubes. He had one elbow rested on the table. The thumb of his other hand was hooked in his front pocket.

Tan had his hands wrapped around a drink he had mixed, squinting up at the sun above them.

Street held a glass bottle of coke up to the side of his face. He had his feet kicked up on the edge of Chris’s chair. The left side of his face still stung a bit from acquiring a new shiner the day before.

Luca had his right arm balanced on the table, like he was getting ready for a shadow arm-wrestling match. The fresh cast covering his lower arm promised that he wouldn’t do any arm-wrestling with that arm for the next couple of months. Next to his elbow a glass a tiny bit larger than a regular shot glass stood, golden tequila filling about half of it. In his left hand he held a bottle of beer by the neck.

“Anyone up for a burger?” Hondo called out, “I think they’re ready now.”

Deacon nodded and stood up,

“Anyone else?” Hondo asked looking over at the table.

Street nodded against the cool bottle. Tan also nodded and got up.

“So, how’s the head?” Chris smirked over at Street.

“Well, the doctor said I didn’t have any signs of a concussion, but I still have a slight headache…” Street shrugged.

“Well, guess it is like that sometimes.” Luca shrugged, “Getting someone’s fist slammed into your face is never a good day.”

Street hitched up one shoulder, “Guess not. Speaking of arms, how’s your wrist?”

Luca shrugged and took a swig of his beer, clearly considering his answer before he swallowed, “It’s fine. And it’s not really my wrist that took the brunt of it.”

Street nodded.

“Whatever, I’ve had worse…” Luca served up a lopsided grin, “I grew up back when child passenger safety meant your dad’s arm coming at you at the speed of light if you were about to crash into something. Not exactly the same as an airbag.”

Chris chuckled, “Let me guess, your biggest idol was Evel Knievel as well…”

“Hey, every boy growing up in the 70’s had him as their idol.” Luca shrugged, “You can bet I’m not the only one in this backyard with a couple of Evel Knievel scars from their childhood.”

“He’s right about that!” Deacon admitted as he sat back down by the table, one plate with a freshly grilled burger for him, and one for Street. “You know that scar I’ve got on the back of my left shoulder?”

The others by the table nodded, “A couple buddies and I had built a ramp, we were going to jump over each other. You know, like if the ones laying on the ground was the monster trucks and the guy with the bike was Evel… Well, I was first out as Evel. Turned out that we had grossly oversized the ramp.”

Luca grimaced, “Hey, we’ve all done that mistake. That always left you with roadrash. I remember once we built a ramp. I was the last ‘monster truck’, so to speak…”

Deacon frowned before Luca had gotten around to explaining how it all ended. He knew where it was going.

“Well. My younger brother, Terry, didn’t build up enough speed or the ramp was too small.” Luca shrugged, “Landed rear tire on my stomach. That was not fun.”

Street frowned and looked over at Chris, “Alright, that’s it. I wouldn’t have survived growing up with those two…”

Chris nodded, “Yeah, me neither.”

“Oh, come on!” Hondo chuckled, “It was a fun time! The world was a pretty safe place, or at least it felt like it.”

“It just felt like it!” Tan shook his head, “Do you know how many kids died in accidents back then compared to now? The statistics are pretty clear and obvious.”

Luca shrugged, “Yeah? Somehow I still want to claim that we were always fine…”

Tan shook his head a little, chuckling a bit.

“Hey, Chris. Luca…” Hondo whistled to get their attention, “Do you guys want burgers to start with, or?”

“Nah, I’m waiting for the pork chops…” Luca grinned over at their team leader.

“Yeah, same here!” Chris nodded.

“Alright, those are still a few minutes out.” Hondo shrugged and flipped something on the grill.

Luca nodded and took another sip of his beer, “Thanks for inviting us! That’s really cool!”

“Hey, had been too long since we just hung out together.” Hondo grinned back, taking a generous sip of his whiskey.

“Sure had.” Chris nodded and grabbed a tortilla chip and some salsa from the table.

Luca smirked and flexed and extended his fingers a few times. He knew it was important to help out his circulation like that, and to work on keeping the mobility of his fingers while his arm was in a cast. He couldn’t move his thumb though, it was trapped in the cast allowing a small break near the base of his thumb to heal, along with the breaks further up his arm.

“Good burger Hondo!” Street grinned and raised his coke bottle towards Hondo.

“Thanks!” Hondo grinned as he assembled a burger for himself, “There’s more of them if you want more.”

“Well, first I have to finish up this one…” Street chuckled, “But believe me, I will swoop in for seconds.”

Chris chuckled, “No one’s surprised… You food wreck.”

Street grinned and jerked one thumb towards Luca, “No, that’s him…”

“Can’t really argue with that…” Luca shrugged a little.

“Then why ain’t you chomping down on a burger right now…” Chris raised her eyebrows questioningly.

Luca waved the fingers of his casted arm a bit, and Chris dipped her head in embarrassment.

“Did not switch on my brain for that one…” she rolled her eyes.

Luca nodded, “Nah, looks like you didn’t. Thick homestyle burgers ain’t exactly the easiest thing to eat when you’re one arm down.”

Chris nodded. “Yeah, and not exactly something you eat with knife and fork either.”

Luca nodded and placed his beer on the table, looking down at the half full shot glass near his elbow. He picked it up and took a sip of it. Causing Deacon to shudder.

With a mischievous grin he looked over at Deacon after he had swallowed the golden liquid. “What?”

“I don’t get how you can drink that stuff..”

“Tequila?”

Deacon nodded with a sour grimace.

“It’s good.” Luca shrugged, “You know, as long as you don’t drink it like a college student during spring break.”

Deacon shuddered again, “Nope. I still have PTSD from a soaking wet night filled with tequila when I was Street’s age. I can barely look at it without my stomach disagreeing with me.”

Luca grinned and leaned over to pick up the tequila bottle, “Sure you don’t want some?”

“Completely sure.” Deacon nodded.

“Anyone else?”

“Yeah, I could go for a shot.” Chris nodded and picked up one of the clean shot glasses from the middle of the table.

“Me too.” Tan smiled, “Thanks.”

“Street?”

“No. I’m not going to drink today.” He shook his head a little, “I don’t want to wake up with a hangover on top of this slightly annoying headache tomorrow.”

“Alright, that’s fair.” Luca nodded, “I would probably have made the same call.”

Street nodded, “But if you need help pouring, I’m up for that.”

Luca looked up from where he had the bottle of tequila trapped between his knees in an attempt to unscrew the cap one handed. “Well, I can do it myself…”

“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure it’s easier for me.” Street shrugged.

Luca shrugged a little, but handed the bottle over to Street, “Thanks man…”

“Don’t mention it…” Street shrugged back and undid the cap, then poured up shots for the three who wanted tequila.

“Thanks.” Luca grinned once more as Street filled his shot glass with tequila.

“Hey, I bet we could make him agree to let us draw on his cast if we get him drunk enough…” Tan thought out loud as Street poured into his glass.

The three young teammates and Deacon immediately looked over at Luca.

“Oh, NO WAY!” Luca shook his head, “Not going to happen!”

“Come on, a little cast art don’t hurt…” Chris teased.

“Not going to happen.” Luca shook his head, “Drawings and get well messages on casts are for kids and people who’s never broken anything before.”

The four others at the table looked at each other. The bet was on.

SWATSWATSWAT

An alarm started blaring next to his head and it almost felt like it was trying to notify him that this was Pearl Harbor and planes were incoming. He reached out with his left hand and managed to kill the alarm. His head and right arm was throbbing like it was a competition.

He had no recollection of the second half of the barbeque at Hondo’s place, nor how he managed to get home afterwards. He had no doubt Street was the one to thank for not waking up in a ditch somewhere.

His stomach started to churn, and he knew the signs well enough to know that he had about 30 seconds to get into position in front of the toilet before the liquor of yesterday took the speed elevator back up.

He got up in a hurry and rushed to the bathroom.

SWATSWATSWAT

“Praying to the toilet fairies?” Street smirked as he opened the door a bit.

“Shut up.”

“Hey, I thought about getting some hangover grub for you. How does a GREASY hamburger sound?”

“I hate you…”

Street chuckled, “Served up in a dirty ashtray of course…”

Luca started heaving.

Street stood by the door, leaning on the frame and studying the damage he had caused with an amused smirk.

“Really hate you!” Luca followed up once his stomach had stopped evacuating its contents for long enough that he could answer.

“You’re going to hate me even more.”

“Yeah?”

“Check your cast.”

Luca looked up from the bowl, groaned and sighed. “Alright, you won…”

“I’ve got a couple of bottles of coke for you, and salt pretzels. Figured you would have the hangover of all hangovers.

“Thanks.”

28 notes · View notes

seblos · 4 years

Text

there’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach - ch 6/10

chapter title: and it’s been a long time since someone gave me a shot

word count: 9,344

notes: tw // panic attacks

read on ao3

Carlos wakes up the following Monday more excited to start the school day than he’s ever been since the first day of freshman year.

Truly, he hasn’t felt this level of nerves mixed with excitement since he first walked into East High. All that day had brought him anyway was the cruel truth that high school isn’t at all like the movies when you’re an outcast.

Today, though. Today had promise. They had been texting and talking all weekend, but neither had been able to find the time to see each other in person before school. If homecoming was just the start of the new chapter in his and Seb’s relationship, then Carlos couldn’t wait to keep reading.

He walks into school with a little bit of a quicker pace than usual, anxious to get to the photoshoot for the cover of their playbill for the show. He wasn’t close to Kourtney or anyone else on the costumes committee, so he hadn’t able to worm anything out of them about the outfits. Whatever Seb was wearing was going to be a total surprise (for both of them) and he couldn’t be more surprised.

However, when Carlos got to the auditorium, he didn’t see Seb or Miss Jenn. In fact, the only person he actually saw was Big Red, who was holding a camera.

“Where is everyone?” Carlos asked him.

“Kourtney is with the rest of costumes and makeup helping everyone get changed, and, uh,” he glances around. “I don’t actually know where Miss Jenn is.”

Huh. “Oh, okay. I’ll go find her, I guess,” he said, turning on his heel back out of the auditorium and down the hall towards Miss Jenn’s office. Maybe she had forgotten?

As he approached the room, he heard voices coming from inside. One was definitely Miss Jenn’s, and the other was… the principal? He tried not to think anything of it before sticking his head through the doorframe.

“Good morning, Miss Jenn!” he said cheerfully, “You coming to the photoshoot?”

She looked surprised to see him, although honestly not more stressed than normal. (That woman seriously needed a spa day or something, she seemed stressed out 90% of the time.)

“You go ahead and get started without me, Carlos,” she told him with a smile.

That got rid of some of Carlos’s nerves, but only replaced them with different ones about being in charge. It never really seemed to go well for him whenever Miss Jenn left him alone with the group. This was just a photoshoot though, not like him trying to run the entire rehearsal without her.

“Okay!” he said, then headed back to the auditorium. Hopefully, he hasn’t missed anyone’s costume reveal yet.

Thankfully, the only person who seemed to be in costume already was Rico (who’s Ryan costume looked suspiciously like a Newsie, but who is he to judge.) Natalie and Kourtney have also made their way onto center stage, which means the rest of the actors are probably coming out at any second.

Carlos gathers the two of them plus Big Red to discuss the plan for the photoshoot Natalie brings out her clipboard, reminding each of them of their roles. It’s honestly a dream to see another student in charge besides just him.

“Okay, that sounds like a plan!” he tells them once Natalie finishes explaining because he still has to take some initiative.

Carlos then watches as the actors begin to file in. He has to applaud them, the costumes are pretty spot on from the movie. Although, Ricky’s wig could use a little bit of work, no matter how hilarious it is to see him look more like Shaggy from Scooby Doo than Troy.

When Seb steps out from the opposite side of the stage, though, all of his attention is on the blonde boy as Carlos has to keep his mouth from dropping open.

He’s wearing a simple pink t-shirt and some acid washed jeans (cuffed, of course) as well as a few bracelets, which are paired holographic sneakers- platform heeled sneakers. They make him a good few inches taller than Carlos (not that he minds, of course.) And not to mention the glittery vest he has over the pink shirt, matching Sharpay’s audition outfit from the movie.

And then the makeup- Carlos doesn’t even know how to begin to describe the eyeshadow, but whatever Kourtney has done is genius. It’s a mix of pinks, oranges, and yellows that covers most of his left eye and stretches out into his hair, which is also matched with a pink stripe. His hair has also been combed upwards in a higher fringe than usual, sprayed in place with glitter hair spray (how he’s going to get that out, Carlos has no idea.) And he’s pretty sure he’s wearing a light shade of pink lipstick.

After a moment, though Carlos realizes that Seb’s eyes are wide, and he isn’t necessarily giving a positive reaction. Even though he wants to run into Seb’s arms right now, he keeps his calm as the boy approaches.

“Hey,” he offers softly. “You okay with this?”

“I don’t know how to say it.”

“Just say it,” Carlos says after a moment, still searching Seb’s face for some sign of a good (or bad) emotion.

Seb is quiet, like he’s trying to find the right words, before his face breaks out in a smile. He leans towards Carlos, softly saying “I’m home.”

Carlos feels that tug in his chest again as he matches Seb’s movement, leaning forward and placing his hands on Seb’s shoulder as the two giggle a bit. He’s so close to the other boy, and they’re both jittery with excitement for the show and to see each other again.

He wants nothing more right now than to drag Seb away with him to behind the curtains and away from the photoshoot. But they do actually have to get this done, and Carlos does have to take charge. He allows Seb to go find as his place and retreats next to Big Red, as everyone begins to get in line.

“Okay guys, we’re gonna get one in for practice, okay?” Big Red calls once everyone is settled and ready to go.

They line up like the original album as he calls “we’re all gonna jump on the count of three, ready?”

Carlos is preparing himself for this to be an easy, one-shot take. Unfortunately, because it's this cast, he quickly realizes it’s not going to be that simple as Big Red counts up to the first photo. Half of them jump on 2, some jump on 3, and he’s pretty sure Nini and EJ don’t even jump until after Big Red finishes counting. Not to mention Kourtney was still adjusting EJ’s costume, resulting in her running in front of the camera.

“One, two, three!” Red tries again, although it still seems to end with the same result, as well as the “L” in “musical” on the sign behind them falling off.

How the heck did they do this in the movies?

“Wait, what happened?” Big Red asks.

Ricky sighs. “Where to begin?”

“I think you went early,” Seb tells him.

Gina looks between them before turning to Red and asking “are we jumping on three or after three?”

“Yeah, the count of three. Ready?” Red tells her.

Ricky shakes his head. “Nah, man, you need some new words.”

Meanwhile, Seb is leaning down to massage his ankle. “I think I broke a heel!” he tells them. (In hindsight, it probably wasn’t their best idea to have him jump while wearing platform shoes.)

“You guys, this isn’t that hard,” Carlos sighs. He can already feel a headache coming on. “You smile, you leave the earth, you land!”

“It’s a little hard to smile when we don’t even know the plan,” Ricky tells him, and okay, that stung a little bit. He desperately wants Miss Jenn to magically show up to fix all this.

“I can’t look at Ricky, is that a problem?” Nini asks, and obviously, it’s a joke, but Carlos’s head is pounding. He just wants everything to work for once. His excited mood from the morning has already disappeared.

He sighs while the others laugh at what Nini says. “Okay, let's take a five,” he says, although more for himself than anyone else.

“On five or after five?” Ricky asks, walking off. Even though it’s a joke, his tone is a lot less playful than Nini’s.

“I think he’s mad at us,” Seb says softly, less confident than before as he glances over at Carlos. He honestly can’t tell if Seb is joking too or if he’s genuinely concerned about Ricky being mad. (Knowing Seb, it could really go either way.)

Everyone had already begun to disperse after Ricky walked off, but Seb takes a moment before he makes his way over to Carlos after the break is called.

“Hey,” he says as he approaches, the same soft tone that he had used with the comment about Ricky. “Are you okay?”

Carlos lets out a long sigh, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. “Honestly it feels like the entire world has been put on my shoulders,” he says, letting them drop. “Or, at least, the East High theatre world.”

Seb grabs his hands (thank god Ashlyn isn’t here.) “It’s just a photoshoot,” he says.

Coming from anyone else it would have made Carlos feel stupid and belittled, but because it’s Seb… well, like he’s said before. Seb never makes him feel anything like that.

“I know, I just,” he trails off. He doesn’t even know why he feels this way. It’s like something inside his body refuses to let him relax over this. “Nobody listens to me, and I don’t know where Miss Jenn is, and I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“They were just making jokes, though. It wasn’t anything against you,” Seb furrows his eyebrows.

He sighs again. “I know, it’s more than that though. Like, in rehearsals too. Nobody has any respect for me, which, whatever, but it’s hard to get stuff done, y’know?” He doesn’t know how to explain it well, and he’s really hoping his venting doesn’t upset Seb.

Thankfully, Seb doesn’t seem too affected by it. Instead, he just squeezes Carlos’s hands softly. “They still respect you, Los. We still respect you.”

Carlos just responds with a soft “okay” because, honestly, he doesn’t totally believe Seb. Everyone treats him like he’s the nicest, most wonderful person in the world. Truly, he is, so Carlos shouldn’t compare. But it’s hard when at the same time they all act like Carlos is just there as Miss Jenn’s more annoying and underqualified assistant.

It definitely wasn’t the Monday morning he was hoping for it to be an hour ago.

“Hey, Seb, can you come help?” Red calls a second later, as he attempts to set up a ladder to fix the “L.”

“I’m gonna-”

“Yeah, go,” Carlos tells him. “I’ll go round up everyone; we should probably get back to the photoshoot.”

He doesn’t really want to leave Seb’s side, (and he should really be the one helping with the ladder, because, come on, three points of contact Seb! If Red wanted him though, he would have asked for him, not Seb.) Unfortunately, though, he Gina and EJ in a pretty heated conversation off to the side, and he’s not sure if it’s going to end anytime soon.

“Guys?” he says cautiously as he approaches.

They both ignore him, of course.

EJ continues the conversation instead. “So, do you care about Ricky?”

“And what if I do?”

“Um, guys?” Carlos says again. He really didn’t need (or want) to hear this conversation. He just needs to get them back to finish the photoshoot, and then they can hash out whatever this is.

“Not now!” they tell him at the same time. Immediately, he ducks his head and walks out. On a normal day, it wouldn’t even get a reaction from him, but it’s just the irony of the situation. Whatever Seb thought he saw in the other students was wrong, and unsurprisingly so.

By the time he gets out into the hallway, his throat is tight and his entire face is on fire. Carlos has to force himself to take a few calming breaths, reminding himself that it’s not personal and he’s just having a bad morning.

Once he’s calm again, he pulls out his phone and dials Miss Jenn’s number. She picks up on the very last ring.

“Miss Jenn, I don’t think I can stall much longer,” he says as he makes his way down the hallway, trying to keep his voice level. “Are you coming?”

“Carlos, I was just about to call you!” she responds. It sounds promising, but the tightness in her voice tells him otherwise.

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, except that I may be out of a job in 24 hours.”

Okay, great, time to panic. “Miss Jenn, I can’t see your face, so I don’t know if you’re kidding- oh my god!” Carlos says as she approaches with a box under her arm. He can easily recognize the contents of her office in it after weeks of meetings together and eating lunch in the room.

Okay, time to really panic.

“Keep your voice down, honey,” she whispers as she slides her phone into the box.

“What happened?” he asks, definitely not keeping his voice down.

“Carlos, I may have exaggerated one or two credits on my resume,” Miss Jenn explains. “Principal Gutierrez is a little too literal for my taste, but here we are.”

“Where’s ‘here’?”

She ignores him, (what else is new,) and instead continues. “The important thing is you keep this train on the tracks. Hopefully, everything will be cleared up when I sit before the school board tomorrow, okay?”

“Wait, what?” No, not okay.

“Keep rehearsal on after school today and don’t speak a word of this to anyone,” her voice lowers even more, as she glances around in case of any roaming theatre kids. “In the theater, morale is everything.”

Before Carlos can say anything else, there are footsteps behind them as Principal Gutierrez approaches.

“Miss Jenn, if you would,” he says, gesturing down the hallway. She ducks her head, turning to exit the school.

“Miss Jenn, wait!” he calls after her. How was he supposed to take charge of an entire rehearsal if he couldn’t even correctly take charge of a photoshoot?

She turns back around for a moment to face Carlos. “Trust the process,” she tells him with a reassuring smile, although he doesn’t feel reassured at all.

With that, she turns on her heel again, leaving Carlos lost and confused in the middle of the hallway.

As if on cue from sensing his negative mood, his phone dings in his back project with a text notification from Seb.

From: Seb Matthew-Smith: are you okay :( ?? we just finished the photoshoot... big red and natalie took over after you ran out.

Carlos pockets his phone without answering.

—

He feels bad for ignoring Seb all day, he really does.

He wasn’t totally giving him the silent treatment of course. And he appreciates that Seb feels like he has to care enough to ask Carlos if he’s okay during lunch, and again during chem, but it’s hard to lie to him.

He wants more than anything to vent to Seb because he knows the blonde is too polite to tell him to stop. Miss Jenn had specifically told him not to tell anyone, which meant that he either had to lie or stop answering Seb’s questions.

Carlos was able to redirect the conversation during lunch, changing the topic from how he was feeling to discussing the school’s vegetarian options (or lack thereof) with Seb. Then during chem, he just acted like he really needed to learn how to convert grams to moles which involved ignoring Seb. Saying nothing was easier than both lying and telling the truth since technically he wasn’t doing either.

Seb seemed to back off a little after that, thankfully, although Carlos was hoping he wasn’t getting the wrong idea. Geez, why did this have to be so complicated?

Eventually, after an entire day of hoping that the last bell would never ring or some freak storm would hit SLC so they wouldn't be able to put on rehearsal, Carlos is forced to make the dreaded walk down the hallway to the bomb shelter. He can feel his phone in his backpack vibrating with one last text notification from Seb, probably asking where Carlos is, but he ignores it once more.

He stops at Miss Jenn’s office, hoping that by some miracle she had returned. Instead, he was just met with an empty room with only the desk and chairs remaining, ridden of everything inside that gave it it’s personality.

Carlos ends up getting to the bomb shelter about 5 minutes after they’re meant to start. Everyone is already antsy as they await instruction, which is not the best energy for him to start with. He pretends not to see Seb by the piano with Nini as he walks in. They’re probably talking about him.

Even with every bone in his body telling him to turn around and walk out of the school, he pushes forward and begins rehearsal.

“Okay, people!” he announces, faking a laugh as he tries (and fails) to capture Miss Jenn’s energy. “Let’s stage a number! I’m late!”

“Is Miss Jenn coming?” Nini asks.

So much for pretending not to see them. “Miss Jenn had a small personal matter to attend to and won’t be here today,” Carlos tries to explain as vaguely as possible.

“Oh. Is everything alright?”

“Good question,” Seb adds.

“Everything is fine,” Carlos forces a smile. “Why would you guys even ask that?”

He turns to grab his binder. More than anything, he wants to scream with his entire body that no, nothing is alright, but for Miss Jenn’s sake, he just keeps going. That’s showbiz, baby.

Of course, today is the day that he’s supposed to stage the boldest concept of the show. He came up with it when he was watching the movie, and it kind of mirrors it in a way he thinks is clever. Part of him knows that the idea sells itself when people realize that, but another part of him is already preparing for backlash.

“Okay, Gabriella, I need you downstage on this mark,” Carlos says, grabbing Nini’s hands and pulling her in front of the boxes he had Red set up. He could feel her hesitancy, but he ignored it as he continued. “Troy, stage right, Chad, stage left box. Other boys find a box” he instructed.

It was admittedly kind of fun to direct them around and see his concept come to life. Plus, nobody had said anything yet. Maybe this would work out.

That feeling lasted for about a few seconds, though, as Nini’s voice cut in right when he was ready to start.

“Uh, are they going to be on stage with me while I’m singing?”

“Yes,” Carlos says, turning to face her. “They will be frozen in various poses to come as the ballad builds. Nini, you will be wandering through a forest of boys,” he explains. It actually gives him a little more confidence in the concept in doing so, reassuring him that maybe his idea wasn’t as overly bold as he originally thought.

“Wait, what? What does that mean?” she asks.

Or, maybe not.

“Do you know what a forest of trees looks like?” he asks.

“I do,” Nini says, raising her eyebrows, and Carlos curses at himself internally. He was trying to make it sound dumb so she would stop asking questions, but now he feels dumb.

“Okay, but with boys,” he says, trying to shake the feeling.

Nini laughs, but there's no humor behind it. “I’m sorry, why?”

“Because your heart has just been shattered, and you can’t stop thinking about how amazing Troy is,” he explains, refusing to let his voice shake. His heart is already beating quicker then normal, and if anyone else questions him, Carlos might break.

He turns and points at Seb (whose expression has remained blank.) “Let’s go.”

Seb spins on the piano bench and starts playing the beginning of the ballad, and Carlos lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The sooner they start this rehearsal from hell, the sooner they can end it.

Until Nini’s voice cuts through again.

“Ah, I’m sorry, but at this point in the show Troy just sold me out to his teammates,” she says.

Carlos wants to reply with “yes, I watched the movie too, and probably more than you have. The song is about him and how she can’t stop thinking about him even when she’s angry.” Before he can get a word out, though, Ashlyn adds on.

“She’s got a point. What Troy did was kind of unforgivable,” she agrees. “Respectfully, Carlos, I think the last thing anyone wants in this moment is four more versions of him.”

(It hurts to hear that coming from Ashlyn of all people, who was one of the only people he really considered a friend. Is it still respectful if she’s totally dissing his idea? Where is Gina’s input when he needs it?)

“Maybe she can chop down the trees,” Natalie says.

“Or, what if she’s surrounded by a forest of loving and supportive sisters?” Kourtney suggests, which immediately gets more positive feedback than any of Carlos’s choreography ideas. Hearing everyone critique one of the only parts of the show Miss Jenn allowed him to block by himself feels like a stake through his heart.

His chest is tight, his breathing is getting more rapid, and he’s rubbing his hands together to stop them from sweating and trembling too much. If Miss Jenn was here, this wouldn’t happen, right? Or is he not qualified enough to be a choreographer, much less a director.

Carlos doesn’t know which option hurts more.

“Is it better if she just does a solo acoustic version?” Ricky calls out.

No, no, no!

He’s definitely getting more upset now, which leads to him getting more panicked.

He hears Gina say “I vote for that!” which is his last bit of hope for some defense going down the drain — Seb is still sitting at the piano, looking confused and overwhelmed at everything, clearly not making any move to defend Carlos either.

All the anger, and sadness, and unworthiness, and every other negative emotion are welling up inside him, and Carlos can’t hold it in anymore.

So, he snaps.

“Okay, you guys! This is not a democracy!” he yells, and immediately the room goes quiet. He feels his face heat up as people exchange looks of surprise mixed with offense, which doesn’t feel fair. It’s not like the entire cast was ganging up on them.

“Carlos, are you okay?” Nini asks.

(Always the first to speak. Always the first to defend herself, and push away Carlos in doing so. Why don’t people listen to him like they do to her? Because she’s older? Because she’s the lead? Because everyone loves her? Because she’s not the 15 year old Mexican gay kid who will always be an outsider and is just trying his best?)

(Maybe Mr. Mazzara had a point...)

“‘Cuz it’s not that deep. We can just come back when Miss Jenn gets here,” she continues, and Carlos wants to roll his eyes and cry at the same time. If it’s not that deep, why don’t they just go along with it? And what part about “small, personal matter to attend to and won’t be here today” do they not get?

It’s all too much, and Carlos is at his breaking point.

“Well, she’s not here, and I don’t know if she’s ever coming back,” Carlos says before he can stop himself.

Once again, everyone goes quiet as the energy in the room shifts.

“Wait, what?” Ricky asks.

“Is this a joke?” Ashlyn adds on. (Carlos could only wish.)

He has the attention of the room now, though, and he knows there's no way he’s getting out of this without telling them the whole story.

“She’s in deep trouble, you guys,” he says, closing his eyes, although not before seeing people stand up and crossing their arms, expressions demanding an explanation.

“They’re saying that she lied on her job application, and there’s a school board meeting in less than 24 hours, and she’s probably going to lose her job,” he explains, opening his eyes but avoiding contact.

“I was supposed to tell any of you, but,” he pauses, struggling how to put this nicely without totally breaking down. “I am trying to do my best here,” his voice comes out hard and unforgiving. He already broke his promise with Miss Jenn, what else do they want from him?

Nini’s the first to speak, again. “I can’t believe it,” she says quietly, going to sit next to a surprised Seb.

“What are we even doing in rehearsal?” EJ asks.

“Wait, how can we have a show if we don’t have a teacher?” Ashlyn cuts in.

Seb leans forward off the piano bench, speaking for the first time since the beginning of this mess. “You know you could have told me,” he says. He’s searching Carlos’s face with worry written across his own.

That clears the red in front of Carlos’s eyes for a moment. Even when he’s upset, at least he has Seb to ground him.

“Miss Jenn asked me not to,” he tells Seb softly, hinting at an apology in his voice.

“Wow, Carlos, what else are you not telling us?” Ej asks, reminding Carlos that he can’t win. He tries to help and do what he’s told, and they get upset. He explains what’s going on, and they blame him for it.

He wants Miss Jenn back, too, (arguably more than anyone else,) but how is he supposed to fix that on his own?

“Hey, let’s all breathe for a second,” Ashlyn says, only for Natalie to cut her off.

“Do you want to be in charge?” she asks.

“She didn’t say that,” Kourtney defends.

All the arguing makes Carlos want to yell again, but whenever he goes to open his mouth, the words get caught in his throat, and someone else talks over him.

“You know what?” Nini asks, standing up and grabbing her backpack. “I, um, I need a minute,” she says, slinging the bag over her shoulder and walking out of the bomb shelter.

“Right there with you,” Kourtney follows, twirling her finger as if to round up everyone in the room.

“Honestly, same,” Ashlyn says, and Carlos can feel her unenthusiasm and discontent digging into his skin.

He can hear Gina saying “wait” over and over again as Natalie calls “guys, wait!” There’s no use, though, and after a moment they pick up their bags as well. Even Seb rushes to pack up his music folder.

And Carlos can’t do anything but stand there and watch as his world crumbles.

“I’m sorry, Carlos,” Natalie tells him as she walks out.

“Rehearsals are officially canceled until further notice,” he finally calls out after them, before throwing his hands up and exiting out the back entrance of the room.

He gets all the way to the parking lot until he realizes he left his backpack in the bomb shelter.

Carlos walks back in, but when he gets to the room, he finds Gina and Ricky still inside.

He wants nothing more than to just get his backpack and start walking home, (Seb usually drives him on Mondays since his mom works late, which was another thing Carlos had been looking forward to today, but it seems he already left,) but he really doesn’t want to interact with them right now. Instead, he hangs around outside the room, leaning against a wall as he waits for them to finish.

Just when he’s contemplating sucking it up and walking into the room (we get it, Ricky, you can sing and play guitar and everybody is in love with you,) he sees a familiar face headed his way, and decides to strike up a conversation.

“Benjamin Mazzara,” he calls out, stopping the STEM teacher in his tracks. He must have been stepping out to get something for the robotics team because he’s clutching a robot in his hand and seems eager to not be interrupted.

Too late.

Mr. Mazzara looks surprised to see Carlos actually addressing him to his face after always ducking his head every time the teacher passes. “Carlos…. Surname.”

(Carlos has been in his class for two years, and he’s pretty sure he’s the only Rodriguez in their entire school. How hard is it for him to remember?)

“I assume you know what’s happening to Miss Jenn?” he confronts.

Mr. Mazzara starts walking away as he talks, and Carlos follows. “I may have heard a rumor in the faculty lounge.”

“And I assume you’re happy?”

“Not on the outside.” Carlos has to try to not roll his eyes when the teacher says that. Alright, angst king.

“Look, everyone has fudged on a resume before,” he says. That’s practically what a resume is.

“I haven’t,” Mr. Mazzara points out, and this time Carlos can’t help it when his eyes roll.

“The real question is, who narked on Miss Jenn.”

“Wait,” Mr. Mazzara stops at the end of the hallway, turning to face Carlos, his eyebrows raised. “Are you suggesting I had something to do with this?”

“Are you admitting that you did?” Carlos presses.

“Of course not.” Yeah, right. As if he hasn’t had it out for both of them since day one.

“Look, kid,” he continues. “Has it occurred to you that Miss Jenn is responsible for her own untimely demise?”

With that, he turns on his heel and continues down the hall, leaving Carlos planted in place, dumbfounded for the second time today. Seriously, does that guy ever speak like a normal person?

He wants to follow Mr. Mazzara and bug him more, but he can hear Ashlyn and EJ’s voices coming from that hallway. Instead, he retreats back to the bomb shelter.

Thankfully, Gina and Ricky are gone by the time Carlos reaches it, judging by the absence of Ricky’s guitar that was previously reverberating throughout the surrounding halls.

Carlos walks through the door, ready to grab his backpack before starting his walk home, and is instead greeted with Seb staring sadly at the piano.

“I thought you went home already,” Carlos says as he enters, and Seb’s head snaps up in surprise.

“I thought you did too,” he says hesitantly, although he seems relieved to see Carlos.

Carlos points at his forgotten bag. “I left my backpack in here.”

“Same with my jacket,” Seb says, holding up the article of clothing in question. “And, uh, I was hoping you would come back, which you did.” He glances nervously at Carlos. “I was supposed to drive you home.”

“Right,” Carlos nods. It’s quiet for a few moments, and Carlos really wants to just bolt. He’s blown off Seb too many times today already, though.

Thankfully, Seb breaks the silence. “I am so, so sorry about not defending you in rehearsal,” he bursts out. “It all happened so quick, and I couldn’t keep up or find a good place to cut in, and I could see you getting more stressed. You’re probably angry and don’t want these excuses, but-”

“Seb,” Carlos cuts him off. “You’re okay.”

Yeah, rehearsal sucked, and there’s a weight in his stomach with everyone’s comments and with about what’s going to go down now that everyone left, but he knows he’s probably better off with Seb supporting him through it rather than holding an unnecessary grudge.

“So, rehearsal today...” Seb trails, as if he’s reading Carlos’s brain. “Kinda intense.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not every day the entire cast of your dream show gangs up on you,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“They didn’t mean-”

“Yeah, I’m sure they didn’t mean it like that, but it still hurts,” Carlos cuts him off. “Still think they respect me?”

Seb is quiet, clearly taken aback, and Carlos realizes he’s never shown Seb this side of him. The part of him that’s dark and scary and upset all the time. The part of him that keeps him up at night, wondering what went wrong in the day and how he could fix it. The part of him that he pushes away so he doesn’t push people away just like he’s doing right now.

The part of him that never feels good enough.

It’s out, he can see it, and he knows Seb can too. It’s terrifying to be this vulnerable. Seb hasn’t left yet, though, which means it can’t be too terrifying.

“I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, I promise. Usually, people leave after I start venting so I guess once I started and you were still here I couldn’t stop,” Carlos explains as he goes to sit at the piano bench. Thankfully, Seb’s features soften, and he crosses to the other side of the piano and stands next to him.

“I��m just… mad at everything,” he continues, slumping over. “And I’m tired of Miss Jenn just leaving at the drop of a hat and expecting me to be able to just take over when nobody listens to me.”

Seb doesn’t stay anything, but he inches closer to him until his torso is pressing into Carlos. He feels an arm wrap around his shoulders. It doesn’t make sense for a moment because Seb is just casually touchy with everyone, but then...

Oh.

Carlos sinks down even more, but this time it’s into the hug. It’s not even a full hug, more like Seb pressing his body against Carlos while he just sits there, but it’s the most physically intimate thing he’s received in a long time.

Somehow, the comfort does more than any words could in the moment. It doesn’t immediately wash away all his worries like his presence at homecoming, but it’s enough for now, and more than enough for Carlos.

Seb drops his arm after a moment, but he doesn’t leave Carlos’s side. He looks up at the blonde boy, who looks like he wants to say something.

But before he can speak, Carlos’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out, and when he sees Miss Jenn’s contact as the notification, he quickly retreats from Seb’s side to read it.

“Is everything okay?” Seb asks as Carlos scrolls through the notification.

“I think so?” he says, switching off his phone and going to grab his phone. “Miss Jenn wants me to meet her at the cafe down the street. She says she has something for me… how am I supposed to interpret that?”

“Maybe it’s good news?”

“I can only hope,” Carlos laughs shortly.

“Do you want a ride? Georgie is on her way-”

Carlos wants to accept— any excuse to hang out with Seb — but it’s really not that far of a walk, and he wants to get there as soon as possible. “It’s alright, I can walk. Thank you though,” he says smiling at Seb, who seems to take it as an acceptable answer and returns the smile softly.

He's about to exit when a “Carlos!” is called. He turns to face the boy again, who’s holding Carlos’s jacket in his hand.

“You, uh- you forgot your jacket,” he says holding up the discarded item of clothing.

He smiles again, walking back over. When he goes to take the jacket, though, Seb pulls him into another hug.

“Good luck!” he says, squeezing Carlos tight before letting him go and holding out the jacket for real this time

“Thank you,” Carlos says, and he doesn’t know if he’s thanking Seb for the jacket or the hug, but either works.

It takes a lot to turn and walk out the doors of the school and towards the cafe rather than run back into Seb’s arms, but he manages to make it to the store. He doesn’t even realize he’s blowing Seb off again until he arrives, but the guilt hits him fast when he realizes he never apologized. Before he steps inside, he pulls out his phone and shoots the boy a quick text.

From: Carlos Rodriguez: so sorry about ignoring your texts today. i appreciated them, just wasnt in the headspace to answer today with everything

From: Carlos Rodriguez: i owe you a coffee or something to make it up to you :)

He doesn’t think about how flirty it sounds or the fact that he practically asked Seb on a date until it’s sent, but it’s too late now. (Besides, they’re past that point, right?) He wishes he could do more, honestly, but he has to talk to Miss Jenn before he can face Seb again.

When Carlos walks inside, he sees her sitting at a table. All mushy feelings are immediately forgotten as he runs over to greet the drama teacher.

“Miss Jenn! I was so happy to hear from you!” he says. She smiles and stands up to hug him (what is up with everybody and the hugs today?) which is hopefully a good sign.

“You said you’ve got something for me. Tell me it’s good news,” he begs, and immediately her energy switches.

“It’s complicated,” she says, putting her hands on his shoulders and directing him to the chair. “Please sit.” As he does, he notices the newspaper spread out where she’s circled what looks like job openings. Okay, not a good sign after all.

“Carlos,” she starts, and he can already feel his heart sinking. “If tomorrow’s board meeting goes the way I think it will, you guys are going to hear a lot of… not great things about me.”

“No, we don’t-” he starts to defend, but she cuts him off.

“It’s all true.”

Carlos furrows his eyebrows. “What is?”

“I never told you guys my real last name because I was embarrassed at how little I’ve actually accomplished,” she says, voice breaking.

Carlos just sits there in silence, still confused and still with a tight chest. It feels the same way he felt when he realized Santa wasn’t real, like the world has suddenly decided he’s old enough to know it’s ugly truth. (And maybe he is old enough, but he’s never going to feel ready.)

“I’m a fake teacher, Carlos,” she admits, voice breaking. “Most of the learning that’s been happening in that rehearsal room… has been all of you teaching me.”

He scoffs in disbelief. “No, that’s not true,” he tells her. She’s already taught him more than any real teacher ever has, how can she be fake?

“It’s the only part of this that ever was,” she tells him, and that seals the deal. Carlos feels like his entire world is falling down around him for the second time that day.

He opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. All he can do is shake his head in disbelief. This cannot actually be happening, right? If his high expectations for the day haven’t already been thrown out the window, they’ve been run over in the middle of a highway at this point

Instead, Miss Jenn reaches down next to her and pulls out what looks like a bright red safe at first. At closer inspection, it’s more of a heavy-duty carry-on file box.

“Here,” she says, pushing it towards Carlos. “It’s my director's file. Audition notes, staging ideas, everything. It’s all there.”

“But I can’t direct the show,” he tells her quickly. He would love to try it, sure, and he kind of loves that Miss Jenn thinks he can.

But running rehearsal for a day is one thing, and judging by the cast’s reaction, there’s no way they would last more than 5 minutes with Carlos being in charge of more than just one set of blocking.

“Oh, it’s not for you, honey,” she shakes her head, which makes sense he guesses. “It’s for your next drama teacher.”

She stands up to leave, as Carlos struggles to form words. She pauses to linger by him for a moment longer.

“I just hope she loves you guys half as much as I do,” she says finally, placing her hand on Carlos’s shoulder.

Then she’s gone, leaving Carlos to sit there with the director’s file and wondering how it could have possibly gotten this bad. The person he looked up to most in the world, one of two people who saved him this year, is not even close to everything he thought she was. So what is he supposed to do now? Just accept reality and move on?

Carlos isn’t very good at moving on...

He realizes something, though, after his mom picks him up and they’re driving home. Even if Miss Jenn is a fake teacher, it doesn’t mean she didn’t teach Carlos things. And now he has to save her in return.

He just doesn’t know how yet.

—

Carlos is still struggling that night on how to help Miss Jenn when Seb texts him. They had been texting back and forth ever since he got back home and was able to check Seb’s response to his apology. (It was sweet, almost flustered, and it left Carlos feeling a little bit warmer after everything. When his mom asked, he blamed his flushed cheeks on the November chill.)

From: Seb Matthew-Smith: ashlyn invited us to red’s house to talk about some stuff. do you want a ride over?

He wants to ask why didn’t Ashlyn just text him? but he presumes it must have been sent to a cast-only group chat (still sucks, but understandable.) He checks just in case, though.

From: Carlos Rodriguez: did the invite extend to me or are you inviting me?

From: Seb Matthew-Smith: obviously youre supposed to come. youre just as important as everyone else in the show, if not more. we couldnt do it without you :)

From: Seb Matthew-Smith: and no, im not just saying that because i like you

Well, Carlos doesn’t know how to function after that last text anyway (or how to interpret it), so he accepts the ride invitation. About half an hour later, a familiar car pulls up in front of his house.

He says goodbye to his mom and promises to text her before going outside and climbing into the car just like it’s a normal post-rehearsal trip. Except instead of going to his house, he’s leaving.

Georgie is sat in the driver's seat as always (he wonders what Seb must be bribing her with to get her to drive him everywhere,) and Seb is in the passenger seat. At least their matching smiles are able to calm the knot in his stomach a bit.

The drive over to Red’s house is a different energy than their usual drives home, with the radio playing quietly and Georgie’s casual chatter about nothing to break the silence. Maybe because it’s dark out, or maybe because Carlos can feel the nervous energy from both Seb and himself, but either way, they arrive after a few minutes.

As Seb is letting Carlos out of the car, he can see Ashlyn and EJ over Seb’s shoulder, already following Kaden, Rico, and Steph into the house. Kourtney and Nini are walking up to the door as well, and more cars are pulling up, and wow, Carlos hopes Big Red knows they’re all coming.

Carlos follows Seb down the steps as they make their way into Big Red’s basement. He inevitably finds himself perched on the edge of the couch next to Seb, who has his knees drawn up to his chin as everyone finds their place in the room.

Everyone is completely silent as they all glance at each other— except for EJ, who’s staring at his phone — and Carlos avoids eye contact by keeping his eyes locked on the boy next to him (not that he minds.) The energy is definitely tenser now that they’re all together again, but at least he has Seb by his side this time.

“This is a terrible party. They aren't even pretzels,” Natalie breaks the silence from where she’s standing next to EJ.

(She’s got a point, although Carlos wouldn’t exactly call this a ‘party’.)

(Not that he would know, he’s never been to one.)

“What are we all doing here?” she continues.

Ashlyn sighs. “We all ended up in the same basement after a really bad day, so someone should say something.”

Carlos almost laughs. Yeah, bad day. You could say that again. Instead, though, he speaks, somehow finding his words for what feels like the first time all day.

“Fine. I’ll say something,” he bursts out, and he can see Seb and a few others looking at him in surprise, but he presses on. “I’m mad at Miss Jenn.”

“Why?” Gina scoffs. “Because she’s got a couple skeletons in her closet?”

God, no. Carlos is the last person to judge that.

“No,” he explains. “Because she’s giving up. She was the first teacher to not see me as a punchline, and now she’s not even a real teacher?”

“Define ‘real teacher’?” Ashlyn cuts in.

“He’s got a point,” Kourtney says.

Natalie shakes her head. “Does he, though?”

“Guys,” Red says, and Carlos is thankful that he’s at least trying to not have this afternoon happen all over again. He’s had enough disagreement and disappointment in just one day to last a lifetime.

Natalie presses on, though. “So, why are we all here then?” Next to him, Carlos feels Seb tense up

“Yeah, good question,” EJ adds, rolling his eyes. “This is a waste of time.”

And maybe this is, and maybe it’s the end and they have no idea yet, but Carlos is going to do everything he can to have that not happen. They’ve put in so much work, and they still have too much work to do before this can be the end.

“Honestly? Because she gave me a shot,” Carlos admits, and he can feel the words coming from somewhere deep in his body. “And it’s been a long time since someone gave me a shot.”

“Yeah,” Seb says quietly, voice breaking the tiniest bit as he slides his hand up to Carlos’s knee. Even in this depressing environment, he feels electric currents running through his body from where Seb’s skin meets his, and the soft “yeah” goes straight to his heart, making it beat quicker than normal.

Even in drama-teacher’s-career threatening situations, he’s a wreck.

“She gave me a voice,” Nini adds, and a few people nod along.

Kourtney crosses her arms. “Yeah, and now nobody’s gonna get to hear it because Miss Jenn screwed up.”

“Okay, does anyone actually care if her past is… a little bit sketchy?” Ashlyn asks. “Anyone?”

Ricky sighs. “I do.”

“Seriously, dude?” Big Red asks. (Carlos wonders if there’s something Red knows that no one else does about Ricky, but now isn’t the time to ask, so he keeps his mouth shut.)

“What, because you live some perfect life?” Kourtney adds.

“Not at all,” he defends, standing up. “Because she put our show in jeopardy. And now we’re all here, maybe for the last time together. And for some of us, this has become… I don’t know…” he trails off, struggling to find the words.

“Family,” Nini finishes for them.

Carlos can hear both their voices breaking, and he swallows thickly. Ricky was the last person he expected to feel so connected to the show and the cast, and if he can… well, Carlos has been working for this forever. Whether or not the cast accepts him as part of the group, for this to work out, he needs to accept them as part of his group.

“What team?” Ricky asks.

And Carlos seals his fate as he softly replies “Wildcats,” along with everyone else.

“Okay wildcats,” Ashlyn says. “So what are we doing about it?”

—

Later that night, (or technically, early morning,) Nini ends up offering both Seb and Carlos a ride home along with her and Kourtney, and they both accept. He had texted his mom a while ago when they first realized they were going to be there longer than expected, and he didn’t want to wake her up now.

Going in Nini’s car did make him a bit nervous still after the events of rehearsal. Everyone had seemed to move past it already, but Carlos was still caught up on it for some reason.

He pushed it aside, though, as he got into Nini’s car. She had actually been the one to suggest Carlos choreograph the dance with the help of Gina and Big Red, and the entire forest of boys incident seemed to drop from her mind, so he went along with it.

Now Seb and Carlos were in the backseat of Nini’s mom’s minivan, sitting closer than probably necessary with Seb’s head on his shoulder as they tiredly discuss the events of the night. Seb had been assisting Nini and Ashlyn in writing the song, so the two had been separated for most of the night until now.

“Y’know,” Seb says between a yawn as he reaches out to play with Carlos’s fingers. “You don’t have to tell me all of Miss Jenn's secrets, but you don’t keep it a secret from me if you need to confide in someone,” he says softly, so only Carlos can hear over the rumble of the car.

“Okay,” he agrees, because he’s too tired to think and he still doesn’t know how to interpret Seb’s text from earlier, but he’s willing to take whatever this is for the next few moments that he’s got it.

Reaching Carlos’s house feels the same way he did during the last few minutes of homecoming, like he just wants this feeling and this moment of safety to last forever. He does need to get at least a few hours of sleep before tomorrow, though, and in order to do that, he, unfortunately, has to leave Seb’s side.

Seb lifts his head when he feels them stop in Carlos’s driveway. In one swift movement, he brings the hand that he had been playing with to his lips, kissing Carlos’s knuckles softly. It sends shockwaves through his body, and if the car door was open, he probably would have fallen out.

“Goodnight, Los,” he says, and yawns again, and Carlos smiles.

“Goodnight, Seb. See you tomorrow,” he tells him, climbing out of the car, and walking straight into his house and into bed. He can shower in the morning, he just needs to sleep now and think later.

Hopefully, this works out…

—

The plan doesn’t really process in Carlos’s head until he’s sat next to Seb again at the board meeting. (Definitely unintentional blocking that they’re sitting next to each other, it just worked out that way.)

His entire day had been slowly dragging up to this moment, and any minute Kourtney would cut through with the song and they would jump up and start singing and dancing and hopefully pull this off.

Mr. Bowen had just finished speaking (turns out Carlos wasn’t the only one shocked by Ricky’s dedication to their cast), and Principal Gutierrez was now addressing his concern.

“Mr. Bowen, I appreciate your statement, but I think we can all agree that theater isn’t unique in this regard,” he sighs, and Carlos has to fight the urge to stand up and disagree with him.

Give it a moment…

“It doesn’t have some special fairy dust that can’t be filled by another extracurricular,” Principal Gutierrez finishes. Carlos is ready to stand up and contest himself by this point, but before he can, a loud hum cuts through the room.

Just in time, Kourtney.

As Principal Gutierrez frantically tries to find the source of the humming, the cast joins in as they all stand up together. Next to him, Seb gives him a smile before they launch into the song.

Don't say another word

Some of us need to be heard

You want her big confession

She never saw Dear Evan Hansen

Whatever you think about her

The show can't go on without her

And by some magic mixed with sheer force of will, they pull it off. Everyone comes in on time with their lines (they even gave Carlos one, which he thinks was Seb’s doing), and everyone dances around each other without running into each other.

The vocals and the choreographer is flawless, and he can see smiles on the faces of the parents growing as they perform. Even Miss Jenn goes along with it as Carlos grabs her hand and brings her to the front, her eyes twinkling as she watches her students. She doesn’t say anything, but he can practically hear what she’s thinking.

Now this, this is theatre.

It’s not a long song, the most they could write in their late night session, and just enough to get the point across. Before he knows it, he’s shooting Seb one last smile as they group together for the final verse.

She stands for truth, justice, and songs in our key

Jazz squares in the choreography

Sharpay and Ryan, you know they'd agree

She stands for us and we believe

They end the song with their hands out and jazzing surrounding Miss Jenn. It’s silent for a moment except for their heavy breathing, before Carlos hears clapping, and then more.

He turns to find every parent giving them a standing ovation, and it feels like the biggest weight in the world is lifted off of his shoulders. Over 24 hours of stressing and hard work and near panic attacks, and they pulled it off.

As Principal Gutierrez finalizes the decision to keep the show on by some miracle, everyone cheers, and Carlos finds himself hugging just about everyone in the cast. It’s like the complete opposite feeling of yesterday in rehearsal. He was at what felt like rock bottom, and now he’s on top of the world.

“How did you do this?” Miss Jenn asks as she approaches him, her voice thick with emotion.

“We stayed up all night,” Carlos tells her, laughing slightly. It’s surreal, in a way.

Miss Jenn looks like she’s on the verge of tears— which makes sense, they did just save her job— and she pulls him into a hug.

“Thank you,” she tells him when she pulls away, half shaking him as she does so.

Once she lets go, Carlos is about to go find his mom within the crowd when he remembers that there's still one person he hasn’t talked to yet.

As if on cue, a loud “Carlos!” cuts through the air, before Seb launches himself into Carlos’s arms. Neither of them says anything as he hugs the boy tightly, but this time, it’s not out of fear, but out of… well, you know.

“I can’t believe you did this,” Seb pulls back as he puts his hand on Carlos’s cheek, eyes shining. “You’re amazing,” he says almost breathlessly.

“I can’t believe we did this,” Carlos corrects, trying to ignore his burning face where Seb’s hand is. “And you’re pretty fantastic yourself.”

Seb’s face turns what Carlos can only imagine is a matching shade of red to his own. “Okay,” he says giddily, dropping his hand.

Just like at homecoming, Carlos wishes they weren’t in front of a crowd of people, so he could just lean in and kiss the other boy right then and there.

He doesn’t, because he assumes some of the Utah mom’s reactions might be worse than some of the students in their school. He still clings to Seb tight, though.

Maybe this week wasn’t what he thought it was supposed to be, but it was better.

#seblos #seb matthew smith #carlos rodriguez #hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #my writing #not a star

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itsblissfuloblivion · 5 years

Text

Torch - Chapter 3: November

A/N: We are one day late but it’s here! Get ready...

Love,

@fightfortherightsofhouseelves

@gryffindormischief

Also on FF and Ao3

Torch: a Hinny canon compliant multi-chaptered fic featuring HBP missing moments. Updates every first day of every month, from September 2019 to August 2020.

_____

Hallowe’en, for all he knows of it now, was a boring event during the first eleven years of Harry’s life. Dudley would gorge himself on candy, gather up his cronies to increase their usual levels of Harry-focused torment, and Harry would simply wait for the day to end like he did any other.

Since his first year at Hogwarts, the end of October has generally been a mix of angst and some sort of life-endangering drama. In between, the Hallowe’en feast at least provided some form of light hearted fun.

When October 30th dawned, Harry had been looking forward to a day spent playing quidditch and avoiding Hermione’s heavy handed comments about the importance of revising early and thoroughly. By the time the sun sets, Harry’s almost hoping Voldemort plans to finish what he started fifteen Hallowe’ens ago.

At least he would only have to tolerate another twenty-four hours of Ron’s moping.

It’s not enough that practice was shite and they’re basically about to be destroyed on the pitch in less than a week. Ron’s got to go all dramatic and say he plans to resign . Harry finds himself wondering if there’s an encouraging way to say he’d rather have shite Ron than deal with McLaggen’s diva attitude.

After supper in the Great Hall, Harry loses himself in the rush of students and eventually wanders into the courtyard - moonlit and delightfully abandoned.

Finally feeling like his brain has an opportunity for quiet , Harry drops down onto the ledge surrounding the fountain and throws his arm over his eyes.

His spine pops a bit at being stretched so absolutely but in that good ‘am I creepy to enjoy this’ way.

Water spray tickles his bare skin, a touch icy despite whatever charms keep it from freezing over and Harry almost feels he could drift off. And maybe he does, until a throat clears and draws him from his funk.

Craning his neck only enough to identify the interloper, Harry finds Ginny Weasley eyeing him with a raised brow. “Don’t think pneumonia will get you out of this game.”

“Imagine if Oliver Wood heard I skipped out for a less than deadly ailment.”

Ginny laughs and wanders closer as Harry pushes himself into a sitting position and muses, “He’d probably be more disappointed I’ve let the Gryffindor team fall into such a state.”

Shrugging, Ginny picks at her fingernails and says, “Are you telling me Wood never lead a bad practice? You can’t put everyone’s performance on yourself. It’s up to us at some point, yeah?”

Harry glances up and meets Ginny’s gaze, so confident and strong when he recalls her blushing looks his first year.

Hell, she’s confident and strong on any litmus test and Harry can’t help but be bolstered by her words, ready to fight another day so to speak.

While he considers some new tactics to implement - on the field and in a more mental preparation type way - Harry finds he doesn’t feel the need to drop his eyes from Ginny’s.

And she hasn’t either.

It’s almost tangible, the feeling building in his chest. So much that he almost wishes it was mutual. Until he remembers Dean and severs the connection.

“Thanks, Gin.”

Her smile is small, but real enough. “Anytime Harry.”

___

By November 2nd, Harry’s so fed up with Ron and his constant fuming and grouching around, he’s almost willing to forget the past six years of friendship for the two minutes he’d need to properly bitchslap his best mate.

Seeing that nobody (maybe except Ginny) would regard such behaviour as captain-y, Harry sighs and sucks it up. There’s a match they must win today after all. So he pretends his little old hand slips with a dash of lucky potion exactly when Hermione happens to be looking. Oops.

At least now Ron’s chuffed and his ego oiled and pampered enough to pull some actual Keeping out of him. Harry can see it in the way Ron walks, prances, struts his way to the pitch - and he shakes his head and smiles. The match is certainly theirs.

It’s only when Harry catches a glimpse of red from the corner of his eye, rapidly obstructed by broader, less delightful Dean-shaped figure hovering over her for his own version of Felix Felicis: a kiss from Ginny.

Something inside Harry’s chest growls dangerously and he draws a long, shuddering breath to silence it. Not the time, he thinks.

Jaw set and hardened, Harry trots together with the Gryffindor team, entering the pitch in roaring, thundering applause. It’s deafening.

And they do win - how could they not? It’s exhilarating, and the whole team gathers in a spine-numbing hug around Harry, and Ron’s so proud and glowing the knowledge that this win is his as much as any of the others’.

Until Hermione just can’t help herself and confronts Harry so he admits, figures it’s safe to let Ron know it was all him now. No Felix, only him. But of course he finds a way to turn his win into a kick to his ego, it’s Ron.

Looking at his best mates hurt and mad, at Ginny disappearing with Dean, at his team chanting their way back to the castle in the midst of happy shouts from their fellow Gryffindors, Harry can’t bring himself to feel too excited. There’s an annoying voice at the back of his mind whispering that the worst is yet to come.

Dumbledore should just hire him to co-teach Divination with Trelawny and Firenze because it seems he’s a natural at it. Exactly as he feared, things do take a new, ugly turn just when he relaxes enough to forget about the looming danger of his best mates jumping at each other’s throats and Ginny points out that Ron’s already jumped - but not at Hermione and in a totally different way than Harry’s imagined.

Ron and Lavender. Lavender and Ron. All Harry can do is blink and...blink some more. Talk about unexpected.

The door to the Common Room slams shut and Harry closes his eyes tightly, silently curses Ron and slips out after Hermione, unnoticed. It’s hard seeing her like this, heart broken and crying all alone. Harry tries his best to support her, but he knows it’s useless...If he allows himself three seconds of honesty, he’d actually tell her that he’d been feeling the same for awhile. So they sit next to each other in silence, the sad and the broken.

Until Ron barges in, Lavender in a fit of giggles in his wake and Hermione looks more mad than Harry’s ever seen her. The insane, pained look in her eyes - it’s terrifying.

And she curses him, and Harry catches the shock on his best friend’s face before the birds hit and the pain sets in.

What a mess.

Later, when he says goodbye to Hermione in the Common Room, Harry climbs the stairs to his dorm feeling bereft, opens the door and readies himself for another blow.

But Dean’s inside, head leaning towards Seamus. It seems like Harry’s interrupted an important talk because both boys jump a bit when he walks in. Still, Harry pays them no mind and rushes out through the door, Cloak securely in his pocket.

“What the fuck.”

Harry grins. There’s only one mouth who could’ve said that, belonging to only one person who could’ve guessed there’s someone attempting to sneak out of the Gryffindor Tower invisibly.

“Hello to you too,” Harry bumps Ginny’s elbow from under the Cloak.

“Going incognito, are we?” Ginny arches an eyebrow, looking somewhere in Harry’s general direction.

“Too much drama, had to hide.”

She pretends to sigh, “Ah, well, I was about to hit the kitchen for some hot milk with cinnamon but don’t let me stop your little undercover mission.”

It’s an invitation to food and mischief and Harry’s not about to let it slip by.

“Lead on.”

Ginny does grin, satisfied and raises her palms to feel around her, “Make way, I’m coming in.”

“You sure it’s enough space for the both of us?” Harry teases.

She takes one look at him and shrugs.

“Not my fault if that bum of yours got too big. You should really cut down on your treacle tart intake.”

Harry pouts and tickles her mercilessly in return. His fingers play over her middle, tickling everywhere as she laughs and dances away from him, Cloak fluttering around them but Harry doesn’t care. All he wants now is her laugh, loud and boisterous, and Ginny...Ginny, with her freckled face and blazing look, Ginny laughing in his arms as they’re hidden in plain sight. Ginny.

He doesn’t have the map, but by now sneaking to the kitchens is something he could do in his sleep. Overall, it feels nice to be doing something stealthy for reasons related to treacle tart and impressing a girl rather than investigating the dark activities of your classmates.

The journey from the common room passes quickly as Ginny murmurs cheeky stories about each of the portraits; likely made up and all the more fun for it. When he tickles the pear and slips inside behind Ginny, Dobby is immediately on them, nearly knocking Harry over as he tucks the Invisibility Cloak away.

Ginny grins at Harry over Dobby’s head as they’re ushered to one of the long tables and seated with much prodding from the house elf’s spindly fingers. As has become something of a custom, Dobby praises Harry to an excessive degree and with Ginny as witness, he can’t help but blush.

Once they’ve requested treacle tart and warm milk to go along with it, Dobby departs with a flap of his ears and Ginny nudges Harry. “Eleven year old me would be so disappointed.”

“Because I’m quite boring and sneak about to get treats?”

Ginny laughs. “No - that would’ve been a selling feature. I mean young Ginny fancied herself your biggest fan, but it appears she’s been overtaken.”

Grinning, Harry props his chin on his hand and for some reason decides now will be the time he’s finally able to wink without looking like he’s got something in his eyes. Based on Ginny’s stifled chuckles, he doesn’t succeed, but he can’t really hate anything that raises that smile on her face.

Dobby returns, deposits their plates and mugs on the table, and disappears off to manage something or other while Harry cuts two healthy slices from the fresh tart. “He’s never given me a singing card though.”

And then, to Harry’s everlasting joy, Ginny actually blushes and stalls for time by taking a sip so overlarge she begins coughing almost instantly. He rises, ready to slap her back or do any manner of things to set her right - even the torture of a purely medical press of his lips to hers - but she soon recovers.

Ginny swipes the tears from her eyes with a sigh. “That was not nice.”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m both deluded and a delinquent.”

“Is that a quote from Umbridge or Skeeter?” Ginny asks around a bite of treacle.

“Joke’s on you, it was Snape,” Harry shoots back, taking a long sip of his milk.

“Well if the supreme potions master turned defense against the dark arts teacher says so it must be true,” Ginny drawls, placing air quotes around defense .

Harry pushes his glasses up, more for something to do than from genuine need, and nibbles on a bit of crust. “D’you trust him?”

Her smile is sad now, even as her eyes bore into his. “I find the number of people I genuinely trust gets smaller and smaller with each passing year. You’re probably the only person I would say that to.”

“Dunno if my agreement is a vote of confidence in the intelligence of your judgment,” Harry mutters, picking at his tart.

Scoffing, Ginny tosses a serviette in his face and cuts another sliver for herself. “Stuff it, you know you’re brilliant. I came here for sweets, not to fluff your ego so you turn into a preening arsehole,” she grins at the end, her lips twisted in a dangerous smile, “ Speaking of my brother -”

“He and Hermione may end me before ol’ Moldy-shorts.”

___

“Not like it’s any of my business,” Harry drawls, turning a page of the Prince’s book, “But shouldn’t you tell him?”

“And what exactly should I be telling who?” Hermione volleys right back, tone a little waspish.

Harry draws in a breath, already regretting he’s opened the subject - but they are in the library and if he’s forced to spend another hour with Hermione looking at Ron out of the corner of her eye and Ron looking back at her from two tables away, where he’s studying with Lavender and Parvati, he’s pretty positive he’ll basically move in with Hagrid.

“Ron. Why don’t you just tell Ron that you’re sorry?”

Hermione slams her book shut, looks at Harry dangerously.

“Whatever should I be sorry for?”

“Does it even matter?” Harry answers, clipped. “Look, Hermione,” he pauses and sighs, “the two of you are my best mates and it’s difficult watching you angsting around instead of talking and, you know, sorting things out.”

“Well then,” Hermione jumps to her feet like an angry cat, “I will go angst somewhere else then.”

Harry can hear her stomping out of the library, completely ignoring Madam Pince or anyone else for that matter. With one last look at Ron, Harry lays his forehead on the old battered book, removes his glasses and closes his eyes. Why is having feelings so complicated?

When Harry finally convinces himself that there’ll be no more studying in the real sense of the word for the day, he throws all his stuff in his bag, takes another look at Ron’s ginger head, hoping he’d somehow manage to telepathically convey that he’s acting a bit like a git for the wrong reasons, then trots out of the library, the castle, and down towards Hagrid’s.

Later, when he’s gorged himself on Hagrid’s special rock cakes and he’d drank enough hot tea to keep the cold outside at bay, Harry finally starts to feel better. It’s nice near the fire, Fang resting his big head on his lap as Harry scratches him between the ears.

“I heard Ron’s with Lavender, eh?” Hagrid starts, dropping on the seat next to Harry, his pink apron fluttering about him.

Harry raises one eyebrow, but grins, “News travel at the speed of light, then.”

“We professors know more than you kids think,” he chuckles pleased.

There’s a pause, interrupted only by Fang’s deep snores.

“How’s Hermione?”

Harry studies him intently before he answers.

“She’s been better, I suppose.”

“Ye know, Harry, I like Ron. He’s a good lad, but sometimes he’s not too smart,” Hagrid stares into the dancing flames of the fire and shakes his head, dark hair falling down in rings around his big, kind face.

“Why do you say that?”

“Yer a smart boy, ye’ll figure it out,” Hagrid winks. “And Hermione too, she ain’t the brightest witch o’ her age for nothing. They are somethin’ , those redheads. Right, Harry?” He goes on to chuckle and Harry can feel himself blush.

Yet he pretends he didn’t understand, finds a good enough excuse to leave and drags his feet back to the castle in the near dark of an end of day, his bag full with rock cakes and untouched homework.

He falls asleep that night holding the Marauder’s Map, eyes boring into Ginny’s dot, waiting for it to move and return to the Common Room, to at least exit the classroom it shared with Dean’s dot for the past hour. Ironic, if Ron only knew there was only one wall between himself and his sister…

Harry’s last thought before he dreams is of Hermione and how lucky she is not to have a magical Map.

____

Over time, one of the strangest things Harry’s realized about his life - which seems quite adventurous to an outsider - is that it’s filled with long stretches of normalcy. The difficulty that is singular to his particular situation, is that even the most calm, boring, normal times feel like borrowed minutes that will turn sour and deadly at any moment.

Living with this sort of dichotomy of feelings leaves him to sleepless or fitful nights, and often a sour stomach that can’t quite manage to settle. As a result, his today breakfast is a sparse affair with barely buttered toast and a cup of tea so strong his spoon could stand.

Overall, when he takes a figurative step back and examines himself, Harry can admit he’s having something of a pity party. His best mates are quarreling like a couple on the verge of divorce, the girl he should think of like a sister is haunting his daydreams in decidedly non sisterly ways, everyone seems to be dating except him, and most days he’s torn between avoiding seeing Ginny and Dean or Ron and Lavender.

Really though, the thing he feels the most angry about is the fact that he really doesn’t have the luxury to dwell on any of that shite. He’s bloody sixteen years old and instead of spending his free time escaping the library and mooning over a girl who fancied him until right about when he...did not. He does not .

Regardless, the point is he’s spending most days diving into a genocidal maniac’s childhood and trying to determine exactly how his classmate is going to wreak dark magic havoc on the unsuspecting student body, rather than wallowing like a good, normal, angsty teenager.

So he does the only thing he knows. After breakfast, Harry manages to wedge himself between students and slip from the hall and out onto the grounds. Nothing like a good fly to calm his wild thoughts, he muses on the way.

He reaches the stands in record time, retrieves his broom and feels it hum to life in his palm, and finally trots out to the snowy pitch. Only to find he’s not the only student with the idea.

And as he watches her fly in graceful arcs across the sky, swirling and sending her hair twisting like a wild red pennant, Harry’s chest clenches.

She flips upside down, arms spread as she lets out a loud whoop and Harry feels himself breathe freely, even if just for a moment, and slips back into the shadows.

#itsblissfulbolivion writes #itsblissfuloblivion #torch #harry x ginny #hinny #hinny fic #ron x hermione #romione #hbp fic #torch chapter 3 #torch november

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leonajasmin-writeblr · 4 years

Text

Find the Word

Thanks for the tag @dotr-rose-love! I was given the words drink, flower, soft and bone. I’m using the first drafts of the four parts of The Mastery that I’ve done so far (which is almost 400K), so there’s quite a few for each word. Therefore, under the cut they go! :)

I’m going to tag some people who’ve appeared on my ‘latest notes’ feed this past month: @lxpinwrites, @ariannastewart, @silentlylostwriter and @what-is-this-blog-about. Have the words mild, grow, house and/or eat appeared in any of your recent/current WIPs?

DRINK (I am prone to over-hydrating so always mention drinks haha):

“Surely you have servants who’ll get you a warm drink and a few biscuits for your pet?”

“Please, I insist you must have something to drink. Personally, I think it is too early for an alcoholic beverage, but I have juice, water and the like.”

He indicated for me to put my drink down before grasping my hands, “That’s why you’re so important.”

“No.” Sebastian went quiet, fully focused on the bubbles in his drink.

Phineas had given me three books, so, after grabbing a drink, I pulled one out of my rucksack.

“Hey, I don’t personally drink,” He said, putting his hands up, “I don’t condone it either."

I didn’t drink last night- even if I liked alcohol, a certain someone’s glare was enough of a deterrent to sit on the other side of the compartment.

Since it was only the two of us, the teacher left for a few minutes to fetch herself a drink.

“No, he wasn’t.” She said, finally sitting down. I’d gotten into my dorm. She'd followed and declined when I offered her something to drink.

Sebastian took a while to take a drink from his cup, but responded, “That’d imply he was logical.”

Miriam had been watching the two bicker as if observing a tennis match. She grabbed her drink at that point, spluttering as she swallowed wrong. The two looked at her in panic before dropping the conversation.

Martha nodded, taking a sip of her drink, “This is why I didn’t want to come now. I can’t think straight.”

“He’ll be in his eighties by now, so even if he is, he wouldn’t have much longer to live.” Uncle August answered, turning the kettle on after realising he hadn’t made himself a drink.

“I know,” Matthias smiled, stirring his drink, “When are we meeting your partner, Alex?”

“Hmm?” Rylan mumbled, “My father said that coffee is unhealthy and addictive. To wake yourself up early in the morning, you should drink hot water. I wanted at least a little flavouring, so I infused some tea leaves in. Try it.”

He laughed once, “But you don’t drink, and otherwise it’ll go to waste.”

“Let me get you a drink. Do you want to come into the dining room?”

August smiled, “If we weren’t teetotal, I’d say let’s drink to that. But we’re going to have to make do with tea.”

“Dad, what is the point of drinking tea when you have so much milk in it that you lose the taste of the actual tea? Just drink warm milk.”

“Ah, my apologies, but he only takes in interns when he requests for them. He hasn’t at the moment. Since you’ve come all this way, would you like a drink?”

There was silence before one relative piped up, “I’ll drink to that.”

“Have a drink while you’re here. I’m a little bit out of the way so save your time and energy.”

“Thanks, Alex,” He took a long sip of his drink, “I’m so nervous though.”

Miriam snorted, “Don’t make me laugh when I’m about to drink.”

“She’s taking over, as we suspected,” He muttered, pouring himself a strong drink of alcohol, “And she’s basically told Dimitri and I that only one of us can lead the Meeting and she’s picked me.”

FLOWER:

The three of us were in the ‘roundabout room’ of the hospital. In the middle was a hexagonal flower box with some odd-colour foliage and around it were five different hallways. There were seven different floors, and we were on the bottom one.

The town looked quaint from the station, but I couldn’t pronounce its name due to not having a Phinean accent. Compared to Natli and Mindeya, it was homely looking with its flower boxes and sign pointing to a vegetable market.

He dropped me off in front of a large house before taking the horses back to his own place. It seemed more grandiose than the properties surrounding it since there were flower baskets coming out of literally every window, but it was the same size. Even the Donegall house, which was also in the centre of the city, was obviously not the property of any old person.

“Ah, but that is the beauty of flowers. She can make her room look pretty with them even though she hates the recipient. And flowers have a lot of meaning. One flower may both mean ‘I love you’ and ‘fuck you’.”

“You work in a flower shop but don’t know your flowers, silly boy. Is Miriam tall and pretty?”

“At the flower shows they have in Natli, her family decide on the winners. She picks second place now she’s the Secondary Master. She doesn’t like the idea of picking just on which she thinks are the nicest so researches quite a bit to make sure she’s actually making the best decision.”

SOFT:

“He’d have stepped up by now if that was the case. It’s been over a decade and a half since I was born.” If looks could kill, I’d be dead by now. Her voice, however, was low and soft.

Father stuck his hand out, and I was surprised about how smooth the skin was. He was only thirty-nine but his face was aged, looking way older than Dimitri’s forty-two-year-old one. But the back of his hand was soft and looked well moisturised.

"Roman says he's a Tibetan Mastiff, they're soft and protective despite their deceptive build. But cute doggies aren't a priority right now. Have you got Miriam and Caspian's scents?"

I laughed, then consciously realised he hadn't moved his hands. I hadn't put on my jacket yet so I could feel how warm and soft they were.

"Well, I'm not moving until someone from the shop floor drags me off," I said, lavishing in the beds comfiness. My one at Natli was hard although the pillows were ridiculously soft, I had to stick blankets underneath for some comfort.

Her hair was near enough white and she also had the same piercing grey eyes which her son didn't possess. She had a soft face although that was shrouded by her current expression.

I couldn't think of any way to describe the voice other than silk. While tinged with age, it was soft and smooth.

She appeared as a mixed woman, with tied back brown locks and a soft but unvirtuous expression. Roman stared as she did so.

Cyrus was interested in all types of vehicles but always had a soft spot for motorbikes. I never paid enough attention to learn anything about the specifics.

Roman nodded, beginning to catch his breath, “Luka wants my Grand Master gone at least. From what she has said, he seems to have a soft spot for Miriam, but I think it is to do with-”

This was one of the rare times he’d smile genuinely. He hid the fact he had these guys most of the time so he didn’t look like a soft-hearted man due to being a pet lover. Deep down, any furry animal was his weakness.

“You have really soft knees, Kadir.” (A/N: The character who says this is drunk, I don’t have a weird knee fetish)

“What? No!” Uncle August had a soft voice but it broke then, “He’s been doing as well as he can be, making the treacherous journey he currently is.”

I’d held Matthias and Octavia plenty of times when they were younger, so I knew how to hold her. Juliana noted it, “You’re so soft-handed, but what’s the frown for, buddy?”

“Well, why are you surprised?” His voice was uncomfortably soft, “The more experience you get, the harder the challenge is. It’s how the world works Meline, not just me.”

Rylan’s voice was surprisingly soft and soothing, and there was a brief smile on his face when I looked at him. There was actual warmth in his expression compared to the other two people in the room.

“Carlos clearly has a soft spot for you too,” Phineas said, “But then again, he seems to have one for everybody bar backstabbers.”

Seb and Uncle Jonathon were almost identical apart from age and build. Their confident but laid-back demeanour was also scarily similar. But his eyes were the same soft deep brown as August’s.

“Did he give Andrei something soft and warm to lie in? I don’t think that’s fucking likely.”

Khristoph and I swapped positions and it became clear they had almost identical faces. Soft brown eyes, long thin eyebrows and a childish look of wonder around them.

Since I was still on the floor, he went onto his knees and kissed me. It was slow, soft and exactly what I needed at that moment.

Uncle Jonathon let his curls go wild but they didn’t reach further than the top of his neck. Grandfather’s, however, were in line with his elbows, the same length as mine. They were maintained well though, and looser than any of ours. His eyes were a soft but deep brown, although they were almost shut due to his frowning.

“Considering you’re the mother of the victim, are you really in the best position to do this?” The judge asked. His voice was soft rather than Winona’s jabbing.

“Vanska,” He responded, voice soft, “Where are we?”

He looked to the door which Roman left through before turning to me, “I was in here when you were watching him. There’s still a soft spot for him in your heart, isn’t there?”

We were looking at each other again when a voice arose. It wasn’t Lawrence’s high, shrill voice, nor Roman’s soft and warm tone or Vesna’s staccato tone. This one was animalistic and growling.

Myles and Jonathon headed over to the blanket, the former looking at Miriam and the latter at Andrei. He had a soft, paternal look to him before a shadow appeared over him.

“Ludwig is surprisingly quite soft as a paternal figure. For some reason I preferred him to Martha.”

“Oh, Miriam.” She gave me her soft hazel-eyed look, “We’ll be able to make something out of this. You won’t have to live like your mother and uncle did.”

Dad was soft, but that was one thing he rarely said, “I love you too.”

Dimitri was a man with rough edges but he had soft spots for dogs and children. After all, he owned more pets than some shelters and had taken Miriam in.

I rolled over, making a soft grunting noise.

Despite his rough appearance and supposed bluntness, Gino had a soft, tinkly laugh.

“Well, my Dad is Grand Master Schwarz. He’s a bit soft from first glance but uses his brain, not brawns. My uncle is Grand Master Ivanov. He’s the opposite.”

Her daughter had a soft and cute face in comparison to her mother’s harsher one, “Oh, alright, what’s the change?”

“Oh, okay. I know this was yours and Miriam’s discussion, but I’ll step in. Why don’t you talk with Nina and let her take charge while you work on understanding the lingo and working on your soft skills? I know a guy who lived in Anthonia who could help you.”

BONE:

“If I had a bone in my body that was sensitive, I’d have a problem.” She said.

He'd put his hands on my shoulders so I bit down onto his forearm as hard as I could. It went deep, his bone almost visible and it was bleeding heavily. He yelped in response.

2 notes · View notes

merakiaes · 5 years

Text

Sleep - Edd Tollett

Pairing: Eddison Tollett x Clegane!reader

Requested: No

Prompts: None

Warnings/notes: Mentions of violence, rape, cursing, idk? This was like the last part deleted so it’s rewritten and therefor rushed. I was high on pain meds when writing this as well, so I don’t have a clue what it says.

Wordcount: 5903

Descritpion: Part 3 of “Interesting Meetings”, someone turns up at Castle Black and comes between you and Edd for a while, in the end bringing you to spend more time together.

On the eight day of your stay, a high lord with a name you hadn’t been bothered to remember, from a house you didn’t care enough about to learn the name of, arrived at Castle black with a few of his men and his daughter, whose name you also didn’t care enough about to remember.

He had come looking for Jon Snow after hearing he had abandoned, rightfully so, his position as Lord Commander, to propose a marriage between him and his daughter.

But as they found out he wasn’t there and the girl in question had started flirting with Edd, you had for some reason suddenly cared enough to learn that her name was Marygold.

The first thing that had run through your mind when hearing that had been who in the Seven would name their daughter Marygold, the second being that ‘Marygold’ would, over your dead body, steal away your only company.

It hadn’t taken long for you to see that underneath the innocent facade she put on, she was a snotty, two-faced sham, this being proven quite literally when she started some kind of competition for Edd’s attention once realizing how her interaction with him bothered you.

And while you two hours in were about ready to chuck her off the Wall, a Clegane never backed down from a competition.

You thought, at least.

An hour into the ‘competition’, you had, despite clearly winning with the way Edd would completely ignore her to talk to you, gotten fed up with her shrieking voice and feign innocence and chosen to just let her have her moment.

Because you knew that you, in the end, would be the one who got to stay at Castle Black with Edd when she went back home in the morrow.

So you had tried to stay clear from Edd that day, fearing you might have snapped the girl’s neck had you stayed in her presence for one more minute.

Edd had noticed of course, and once again been left confused at how quickly you managed to change your mood. But as he hadn’t gotten a single minute alone, with Marygold and her father following him around, he just left you alone.

Because in truth, the girl was driving him mad with her giggles and compliments, and not the good kind. And he knew that if he was irritated beyond belief, you would have most likely stabbed the poor girl to death if he brought her anywhere near you with the mood you seemed to be in.

So you stayed clear of each other the best you could for an hour or two, something Marygold had been very glad about, until he then got told you had started a fight in the kitchen when a brother of the Night’s Watch had tried to cup a feel, leaving him to excuse himself from the Lord and his daughter to run to find you.

You were sitting in your lonesome in the common hall, your legs kicked up on the table like they always were, nursing a drink as you tried to calm down from the fight you had been in only minutes before and drown out the slight stinging sensation that was tingling its way up and down your side.

You heard from the steps outside the door that someone was coming, and as you had gotten familiar with the different men’s footsteps by now, you didn’t need to look up to know it was Edd.

Edd instantly spotted you in the corner of the room as he entered, his eyes immediately going between your face and the cup in your hand.

“You’re going to start drinking already?” He asked as he stepped into the room, looking at you with a judging look.

You twirled the wine around in the cup, smacking your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“You don’t know me very well if you think I’ve just started.” You responded without looking at him, foot shaking slightly on the table like it always did when you were restless and fidgety.

Silence fell over the two of you, leaving him to look at you.

He let his gaze travel from your uninterested face down your body, eyes taking in your cloak lying on the ground and your doublet being undone and hanging loosely off your shoulders, only then noticing the splotch of red on your white shirt.

“Is that blood?” He asked as he walked closer to you with rushed steps, his life flashing before his eyes as he thought of all of the ways your brother could kill him if he found out you were hurt under his watch, not finding it a very pleasant thought.

You hummed as you looked up at him, eyes drooping slightly from the lack of sleep mixed with alcohol. “No?”

He gave you an unimpressed look, but his eyes were panicked. “That’s not a question you’re supposed to answer with another question.” He paused. “Why didn’t you come tell me you were hurt?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s only a scratch, it’ll heal.” You told him, annoyed.

“It could get infected.” He shot back, causing you to look at him with a look matching your current irritation.

“I cleaned it, it’s only the shirt that’s bloody.” You told him before proceeding to untuck the white fabric from inside your pants. “See?” You pulled the shirt up to show him the small, true to your words, clean gash.

Edd adverted his gaze at the sight of your exposed torso, ears warming up. You raised an eyebrow at this, but didn’t question it as you let your shirt fall back down,

“What’s with you today?” He asked you then, talking about the mood he thought you had left behind yesterday.

You raised your cup to him a ‘cheers’ motion. “I’m bitter and I’m complicated.” You said. “It’s one of my many charms.”

He gave you a look. “I don’t think you know what that word means. Or how to count.”

“No.” You agreed. “I always was better with letters than numbers.”

Edd looked at you as you gave him another drooping smile, looking like you were about to pass out any second.

You took a sip from your cup, going back to your previous activity consisting of twirling the liquid around. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Golden Mary?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Marygold?”

“Marygold, Marysilver. I don’t care.”

He scoffed, suddenly understanding where your sudden change of attitude had come form. “You’re bitter because of Marygold? And here I’ve walked around all day suffering her constant chatter so that she wouldn’t bother you.”

You turned to look at him at this, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you liked the attention.”

“She’s alright.” He answered, although hesitantly.

You snorted. “She’s an insufferable fraud, a walking copy of Cersei Lannister, who, in case you didn’t know, is the biggest fraud of them all. She’s only nice to you because she’s flirting with you. She’ll be expecting you to be in love with her by tomorrow morning. I just hope you’re not that stupid.”

Edd gave you a light glare. “She’s been annoying me enough for four hours, no man would ever voluntarily choose to live with that.” He pulled out a chair to sit beside you. “I don’t like emotions, they’re messy.” You chuckled, glancing at him. “I think you mistake feelings for paint.” “Love is a fucking joke. There’s nothing more sickening than a man in love.” He shook his head, muttering under his breath at the thought of being stuck with a Marygold for his whole life. You narrowed your eyes at him, smirking. “Didn’t you say you signed up to be here just to get girls?” He looked at you with an almost offended look. “I was desperate.”

“You’re not anymore?” You raised an eyebrow at him, getting a glare in return.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, leaving the two of you to your own thoughts.

You watched Edd for a moment, looking at him as he stared at the table, spacing out in what you thought was a desperate attempt to recover from being in Marygold’s company the whole day, before you turned to look at the window.

The dark had fallen, making you realize you had been in there in your lonesome for longer than you thought, and not until then did you start to feel the effect of the root slowly leaving your body, as your eyelids started to feel heavier.

Edd looked up at you to find you slowly dozing off as you leaned your chin on your hand, eyes falling shut and opening again in an attempt to keep awake. But with the way you were failing he couldn’t help but wonder how long ago it had been since you had slept.

He knew you had told him that you had slept the night before, but he knew this was a lie, having heard you move around in your room that whole night.

Noticing your head starting to fall down toward you chest, Edd finally stood up to tap your cheek lightly, causing you to shake awake just as you were about to fall asleep.

“How long has it been since you slept?” He asked you for what seemed to be the hundredth time while he helped you sit upright in the chair, having slid down when dozing off.

“I’m not tired, just drunk.” You chided, although the circles under your eyes told a whole other story.

“Don’t matter, you need to rest.” He grumbled, starting to pull you out of your seat, this causing you to pout sourly in your buzzed state.

As he took you outside and went to pull you to the left to take you to your room, you grabbed his arm and pulled him right instead.

“I haven’t gotten to see the top of the Wall yet, will you take me?” You asked, giving him a pleading look as you put your hand on his chest to tempt him, looking up at him through your lashes.

“The air is different up there. You get dizzy.” He only answered. “You can already barely stay on your feet, I’m not going to be the one to let you fall to your death.”

You pouted, squeezing his arm. “Please.”

He gave you one of his famous judging looks, but no matter how much he argued that feelings and everything related was shit, even he couldn’t resist the look you were giving him, giving in with a begrudging sound.

You let your face light up in a grin as you felt him drop your arm, wasting no time in pulling him by his furs towards the elevator.

It was a good thing the Lord and his daughter, and the rest of the castle’s residents, had gone off to bed, otherwise most likely having reacted to your undone clothing.

“To the top we go!” You exclaimed as you entered the lift, and together you rode to the top.

You grabbed onto him for support as the lift shook to a halt a few minutes later and didn’t waste another second in the small space before exiting.

However, before you could get very far, you stumbled in your step, the air, much like Edd had said, being very different this high up.

“Fucking hell.” Edd cursed under his breath as he caught your arm to prevent you from slipping, already regretting his choice to let you have your way.

“Try not to fall, will you? Your brother would kill me.” He grumbled as he walked by your side, still holding onto you.

You looked at him with a smirk. “Don’t let me and I won’t.”

And with that, the landscape became exposed to your eyes, having you in a state of utter shock and fascination.

As Edd stopped walking right before the roof disappeared from over his head, you walked a bit further, eyes widening as you took in the sight before you.

You could see trees reaching to what seemed to be infinity, the usually big pine trees looking like mere spots on the ground. Crows could be seen flying about around the treetops, and the snow was glimmering in the light of the torches on the Wall.

You were speechless. It was the most breathtaking thing you had ever seen.

And as Edd watched you from the side, taking in your rosy cheeks flushing even further from the cold, your dark hair whipping about in the snowy wind, and your pink lips parting slightly as you breathed heavily, he found himself deciding that was the most breathtaking thing he had seen.

The entirety of your stay, you had, although nice and flirty to him for most of the time, been in a mood. Anyone could see how bored and depressed you had been from having to stay at Castle Black when your brother went on what you called an ‘adventure’.

But now, for the first time since your arrival, you looked satisfied; free. And it was the most beautiful thing Edd had seen, your current state making you even more stunning than you had already been.

You had always wanted to lean down the edge of the world, eyes closed.

All your life you had longed for the most exciting experience you could think of, this being to be standing with one leg in life and the other in the grave; on the brink between life and death on your own terms.

Some might have thought you to be suicidal because of it, and maybe you were, in a way, but you had been trapped your whole life thanks to Gregor.

The things he had done to you, the things he had done to your brother, had left you scars you would never come back for.

And you stopping to call Gregor your brother hadn’t been the only consequence. You had felt dead inside ever since the night he pushed Sandor’s face into the coals and robbed you of your innocence while he made him watch.

This in turn, left you to constantly yearn for the feeling of being alive. And as you stood at the top of the Wall, you found that this was it.

As you finally came back from your speechless shock, you walked closer to the edge, turning to look at Edd, finding him already looking at you.

“Hold my hands.” You told him, holding out your hands for him to take.

He looked at you strangely, but nonetheless removed his gloves and came forward, hesitantly taking your hands.

“Don’t let me fall.” You breathed, voice shaking with both fear and excitement.

“What?” Edd gave you a quizzed look, feeling his heart starting to beat faster as you backed closer and closer to the edge, not knowing what you were going to do.

You wrapped your hands around his forearms, his coming to do the same to yours to seal your grip into a strong one. And when sure he wouldn’t let you go, you leaned backwards slowly, the heels of your boots digging into the edge of the Wall.

Edd felt his heart skip a beat as you fell backwards, his grip instantly hardening as he dug his feet into the snow to be able to keep you up, not having been prepared.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He swore at you. “Have you gone mad?”

You laughed. “Probably.”

Edd watched as your eyes fluttered closed and your head fell backwards, your hair hanging down and flying around in the wind.

Your chest heaved up and down, the feeling having your heart beating so hard in your chest it felt like it would jump out of your ribcage. It was unlike any other, the mixture of excitement and fright sending you into a state of absolute glory.

This was what you had been wanting to do your whole life; having the power to decide by yourself whether you lived or died, something you hadn’t had that night all those years ago.

There was no greater power.

If there was a God, if Death was real, you overpowered them both in this very moment, leaving them both to grab at air as you stood in the In-between where none of them could reach you.

Edd couldn’t understand what could possibly be running through your head in that moment, seeing you smiling in a way so relaxed he almost feared you were going mad.

He didn’t know if he should be scared about the fact that you were clearly out of your mind, or touched that you would trust him with your life without batting an eye.

But after two minutes of thought and watching you hang of the edge like a crazy person, he decided to be touched, all while he was not quite ready for that kind of responsibility.

He half expected you to protest when he pulled you up, like you always did when he came in the way of doing something you wanted, but you didn’t say a word, only smiling as you crashed into his chest from the force of his pull.

“There’s something seriously wrong with you.” He shook his head as he pulled you away from the edge.

You didn’t answer, letting him pull you away from danger’s way and only looking up at him once you were safe under the roof.

Edd looked down at you and found himself flushing slightly as he took in the space, or lack there of, between you, not entirely sure if it was because of your exposed cleavage or the fact that you were still sporting the very same expression he had been admiring only moments before.

You didn’t know if it was the wine, the sleep deprivation or the final bit of White Annie that was still running through your veins that made you do it, but with the way he looked down at you, you couldn’t help yourself as you grabbed a hold of his neck and pulled him down to press your lips to his.

It was no charming first kiss, you would admit. Your teeth clashed together painfully as you had pulled him down slightly rougher than intended, and Edd’s back was bent in an inconvenient way as he was bent down to match your height.

But it was enjoyable none the less.

It took a moment for Edd to return to his senses, having frozen from the sudden change of position, but his hands soon came to rest shakily at your waist, his body reacting to your touch without him having a say in it.

He frowned into the kiss as he tried to break away, only managing to utter out a quiet “No.” before you had pulled him back.

“I- we shouldn’t, your brother-“, Edd managed to get out into the kiss, words muffled by your lips on his.

“I do not want to think about my brother while kissing you, please shut up.” You only breathed into the kiss before proceeding to push him backwards towards a wall.

Edd didn’t say anything else, just letting you guide him backwards while he twisted his body slightly so that the two of you could be more comfortable, the kiss softening in the process.

However, before you could reach your goal, snow suddenly fell through a hole in the roof, hitting the both of you in the head.

“Fucking hell!” “Shit!”

You swore together, jumping apart as the snow melted into your hair and ran into your clothes. You shook your hands violently, desperate to get the cold snow off as it melted to water.

If you weren’t shaking before, you most certainly were now, your doublet and outer layers still being undone from when you had cleaned the gash in your side.

“We should get inside.” You said, wrapping your furs tightly around you in an attempt to keep in your body warmth, finding that it wasn’t working.

Edd only nodded, now having gone back to his usual quiet and unsure self, and together you rode down in the lift, not speaking another word to the other as you moved to your rooms.

Edd stopped by his door without looking at you, still a bit shaken up from the moment you had shared on the Wall.

You couldn’t deny your disappointment, but didn’t press it, instead only sparing him a glance as you walked past him to the door on the right of his, opening it.

Edd went into his room and you went into yours, and were just about to close your door when you heard Edd’s swears from next door.

You furrowed your eyebrows, wasting no time in walking outside again and going inside his wide-open door.

You had expected something bad to have happened with the way he was cursing in annoyance, but what you found was not something you would have called bad.

You laughed at sight of Edd’s annoyed expression as he watched the giant direwolf that was sprawled out on his bed, seeming to be asleep as he was snoring lightly.

He looked at you, the situation having him irritated. “Wake him up, since it’s so funny to you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, coming down from your little laughing fit. “It’s your friend’s pet, and your bed, wake him yourself.”

“You’re the one who just dangled from the Wall like it was nothing, you’ve proven yourself to be far more adventurous than me. Unlike you, I don’t like the idea of risking my life.”

“And I don’t like the idea of waking up sleeping animals.” You shot back. “Besides, I’ve had enough adventures for today. Come on.”

“Today.” Edd scoffed bitterly under his breath, but nonetheless let you drag him back outside by his arm.

“You can sleep in my room tonight.” You told him, as you closed the door to Edd’s room, leaving the beast to sleep in peace, and dragged the man in your grasp along to your room, pulling him inside. “I wouldn’t have been able to make a fire by myself, anyways. My hands are shaking too much.”

Looking down at said hands, Edd found this to be very much true, wondering if it was because of the cold or the lack of sleep.

He decided for the latter, your sunken eyes giving him all the evidence he needed, the slight tremble in your step only proving it further.

Closing the door behind you as he walked inside, you went to lock the door like you did every other night.

Edd turned around at this, reacting almost instantly to the sound of the key turning in the door and the lock clicking into place.

You rolled your eyes. “Calm down. I’m not killing you. I’m just preparing should anyone else decide to try and kill me.”

“I am calm.” Edd grumbled as he went further into the room, beginning to remove his wet cloak and proceeding to hang it over a chair, moving the chair to stand in front of the fireplace before going to work on getting a fire started.

You let your fingers untie your own cloak as you watched him roll up his sleeves and put a few logs of wood into the open space, admittedly being slightly, correction: very, disappointed that he hadn’t pushed you up against the door and taken you right then and there the same second you had entered.

You hung your cloak on the door and continued to watch him, witnessing the first spark appear under his hands, the sight causing your thoughts to wander to your brother, only then realizing how much you actually missed him.

He had been the one to raise you, taking the responsibility on himself despite only being three years older, taking the job that was supposed to be Gregor’s.

Being loyal to House Lannister, you had grown up on Casterly Rock, at first only having tended to the hounds in the kennel while Gregor was out doing dirty work for Tywin, but soon Sandor had been pulled into the gruesome line of work, as well, leaving you to spend time with Jaime and Tyrion during your days.

But even though he had been taken away from you, Sandor had kept a close eye on you.

All his life Gregor had set fire to the world around him, Sandor coming to do the same in later years.

But while Gregor had pushed Sandor’s face into that very fire and put his hands on you like you were just some dirty whore rather than his little sister, leaving you physically respectively mentally burnt, Sandor had never let a flame touch you, even if it meant getting exposed to his greatest fear in the process of saving you.

You had been separated many times, only when arriving at Castle Black seeing him again after almost a year. But you always found your way back to each other.

Sandor might have been a murderer, but everything he had done in life had in one way or another been to protect you. It was a debt you would never be able to repay, which is why you had been so mad to get left behind.

You knew he made you stay behind because he wanted to protect you, and for that you were grateful. But with everything he had done for you, the thing you wanted most in life was to repay the favor. Which you never got the chance to do, when he constantly had you sitting out on any potential danger.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when the fourth spark suddenly took to the wood and evolved into a small flame, soon spreading to the rest of the logs and slowly lighting up the room.

Edd stood up then, the task at hand being accomplished, and turned to look at you.

You met his eyes for a brief moment, before he looked away just as quickly.

Edd flushed pink as his eyes landed on your form, your white tunic now being sheer and see through with the water soaking the fabric, causing it to stick to your curves.

Porridge.

Horse liver.

Samwell Tarly.

He had to think about everything but you to not make a fool of himself by showing you how you made him feel, the most unattractive things he could think of coming to cloud his desires.

“I’ll take the floor.” He cleared his throat, not sparing you another glance as he went to grab two of the furs and pillows from the bed to start setting up on the floor.

You gave him an unimpressed look that you knew he could feel even though he wasn’t looking at you.

“You’re not taking the floor. The bed is big enough for both of us.” You told him, going to stand beside him and grabbing his wrist to stop him in his tracks.

He froze for a second, your cold hand resting on the bare skin of his forearm.

“Relax.” You laughed as you took in his tense form, grabbing the furs from his hand and putting them back on the bed.

“It’s a little hard to when I can see through your shirt.” He muttered, briefly glancing at your face with the usual unsure expression resting on his features.

You looked down, only then realizing you were showing through your tunic. As you looked up at him again, you scanned his face, noticing how he was staring into your eyes in an uncomfortable manner as he tried not looking down at your chest.

You stood there in silence for a moment, amusement clear on your face as you gave him a minute to make the first move, however, although not surprised, coming out severely disappointed when he didn’t.

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed his neck, taking matters into your own hands as you decided he had gotten enough time, pulling him down to meet your lips.

Like on the Wall, Edd froze by your actions, but this time, being tired of waiting, you didn’t let him ease into it by himself, once again taking matters into your own hands.

“Stop that.” He groaned against your lips as you pushed your chest closer to his, leaving him even more exposed skin to look at.

“Why?” You mumbled back, going to grab his hands at his sides carefully, placing them on your hips.

He didn’t react at first, keeping his tense stance, but soon enough his lips hesitantly started moving against your own.

You smirked, taking that as a sign to continue, slowly using your own hands to inch his up your body, being sure that he was taking the fabric of your shirt with them.

“What-“ He paused. “are you doing?” He managed to get out between kisses as you slowly started backing him into the door, causing him to grab on to your waist for support, which in turn resulted in a small moan leaving your lips.

Edd’s ears perked up at the sound, his heart beating even harder.

“You didn’t like being able to see through my shirt. I’m fixing the problem.” You breathed out, voice muffled against his lips as you kept inching his hands further up your sides.

Edd’s heart was beating hard in his chest, and no matter how hard he tried to slow down his breathing, he couldn’t.

Stop being such a little bitch. He found himself scolding himself in his head.

He was grown man, for Gods’ sake, and here he was acting like a thirteen year old yellow-belly. He was going to scare you off soon enough if he didn’t do anything.

But his self-lecture was to no help as his hands came in contact with your breasts, flinching pathetically in reaction.

You had to hold in a laugh at this, finding his nervousness amusing but not wanting to discourage him even further and ruin your chances by doing so.

You used your own hands to make his squeeze down as you let your teeth graze his lips. “What was that you said about emotions earlier?”

He shook nervously, debating whether or not he was actually going to go through with this.

Breathing, he finally responded. “I mistook them for paint.”

And that was all you needed to grab the edge of his doublet, dragging him with you to the bed where you fell down together.

An hour later Edd was sleeping peacefully next to you, the orange flames from the fireplace illuminating his face.

You still hadn’t dared to fall asleep, instead watching the shadows dance across his face as the flames flickered.

You liked him. More than you would like to admit, and this was the first time in your life that you had held such feelings towards a man.

You didn’t want to ruin that by scaring him off with your abnormal sleeping habits.

You shifted slightly, turning your head to look at the small vial that was standing on the desk at the end of the room.

Your body was screaming at you to sleep, about ready to give up after not having slept for days, all while your mind was screaming at you to drink the root.

Being your usual stupid self, you, of course, did not go for the first and better option, slowly starting to lift Edd’s arm from around your waist, careful not to disturb him.

As you had almost managed to get his arm off, you slowly started sitting up, moving to put your legs over the edge of the bed. However, before you had the chance, you felt Edd’s arm pull you back, causing your heart to jump in your chest.

You whipped your head around to look at him, eyes wide and heart beating fast as you waited to see if he had awoken, but when he said nothing and didn’t move again, you figured he had just been moving in his sleep.

You turned around to attempt getting out a second time, repeating your previous procedure of getting his arm off your body.

“Stop moving.” Edd’s hoarse voice suddenly came from beside you, causing you to jump in fright.

Once again, he pulled you pack to his body leaving you to lie on your back as still as you could, looking at the roof.

Edd went to go back to sleep, but when feeling how tense your body was in his embrace, he opened one of his eyes to look at you. “Why are you still awake?”

You glanced at him, before letting your eyes find the ceiling again. “I don’t like sleeping when I’m not alone.”

Edd opened both of his eyes at this, pushing himself up on his elbow and going to sit up. “I can leave if y-“

“No, no.” You told him quickly, pushing him back down and turning to face him. “I meant in general, this whole castle is full of people.”

He let his eyes inspect your face, running over your tired eyes and pale skin. “No one would hurt you.” He said to you, inquiringly.

“I know.” You ran your hand over your face, stopping to rub your eyes for a moment, before you put on a tired smile and laughed. “My mind just has a scary capability of being dark and demented.”

“You’re afraid of your dreams?” He asked, causing you to frown.

You hesitated, going back to look at the ceiling. “Yes, I guess you could put it that way, as well.”

Edd was quiet for a minute, leaving you anxious that you had weirded him out to the point where he would leave, but in reality, he was just surprised at how vulnerable you had suddenly become, being used to your forward and confident attitude.

He scanned your face, before finally speaking up. “I can stay awake. If you want to sleep for a while. I’ll make sure you’re alright.”

Your head whipped around to face him, giving him the softest of looks, not really believing the words coming out of his mouth. “You would do that?”

Not once had you stumbled upon a person other than your brother who showed anything but judgement at the mention of your nightmares. And here Edd was, someone you had only known for a little over a week, willing to give up his own sleep so that you could get some rest.

“If it means I won’t have to put up with your mood swings for the rest of the time.” He raised his eyebrows slightly, causing you to let out a laugh, eyes stinging with the mixture of sleep deprivation and touch.

“I’m sorry.” You laughed softly.

He didn’t answer, only looked at you as he opened his arms, urging you to come closer. “Come here.”

You moved into his arms slowly, your back coming to rest against his chest. You felt him place his face in the crook between your neck and shoulder, arm coming to rest around your stomach securely.

“Sleep, I’ll be here.” He ordered you, voice gruff, and as you grabbed his hand, your fingers automatically starting to scratch the back of it like you had done to Sandor’s your whole life, you were for the first time since your arrival finally able to fall asleep with the warmth of the fire and Edd keeping you safe.

Tagged: @edarene @anephemeralwoe @aquariusfangirl @starkbelova @well-aint-that-strange @witch-of-letters @landfillsposts

(IF I’VE FORGOTTEN TO TAG YOU OR IF YOU’RE NEW AND WANT TO BE TAGGED, SEND ME A DM. IT’S HARD FOR BE TO KEEP TRACK OF THE ONES WHO COMMENT ON MY POSTS THAT THEY WANT TO BE TAGGED. MY BRAIN IS A MESS)

#game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #edd tollett #edd tollett imagine #edd x reader #edd tollett x reader #dolorous edd #eddison tollett #sandor clegane #eddison tollett imagine #eddison tollett x reader

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archangel-icarus · 4 years

Text

icarus | bnha oc info

▸ ʙ ᴀ s ɪ ᴄ ɪ ɴ ғ ᴏ ◂

基本情報

═════════

∥ ғɪʀsᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇ.

michael

マイケル

maikeru

∥ ʟᴀsᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇ.

harris

ハリス

harisu

∥ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴏʀɪɢɪɴ.

their mother actually chose the name. michael is of hebrew origin and means "who is like god". michael is also the name of an archangel in the bible.

the last name harris on the other hand, is of anglo-saxon descent meaning "son of harry". harry being a derivation of henry which means "home-ruler".

∥ ᴀʟɪᴀsᴇs.

god - michael does not have a god complex and has been called a god under ironic circumstances. they are a tad cocky in nature and finds the nickname mildly amusing.

micha - a more or less gender neutral name that they tend to use on occasion. they primarily use this nickname when around friends or classmates.

baby/baby face - this adorable nickname refers to the fact that michael has a somewhat soft yet androgynous appearance, looking both masculine and feminine all at once. there is also the fact that when around those close to them, michael may act childish.

∥ sᴘᴇᴄɪᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴀᴄᴇ.

human ; white

∥ ᴀɢᴇ ᴀɴᴅ sᴛᴀʀsɪɢɴ.

sixteen (16) ; sagittarius - as a sagittarius, michael is bold and truthful. they tend to say whatever it is on their mind, even if it may hurt.

∥ ʜᴇɪɢʜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ.

5'7 (170.18 cm) ; 126 lbs (57.13 kg)

∥ sᴇx ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ.

male ; genderfluid

∥ sᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄ ᴏʀɪᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

panromantic homosexual

∥ sᴏᴄɪᴀʟ sᴛᴀᴛᴜs.

upperclass

∥ ᴀғғɪʟɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴs.

first year at UA (transferred from an American school with the help of their father)

∥ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴏғ ʙɪʀᴛʜ.

los angeles, california, united states

∥ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ.

musutafu, japan

▸ ʀ ᴇ ʟ ᴀ ᴛ ɪ ᴏ ɴ s ʜ ɪ ᴘ s ◂

関係 ∥ 家族 ∥ 友達

═════════

∥ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ.

carolyn was their mother's name. michael barely remembers her face but is aware that they are a near spitting image of her. she disappeared when they were young and hadn't been found since. their father rarely ever talks about her as a result. she was the only parent with a 'real' quirk, which had both of her arms transform into dove-like wings.

∥ ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ.

michael's father, samuel, has a quirk that allowed him to turn his fingers into writing tools such as pens or pencils. he never saw it as a real quirk per se seeing as he looked up to those with flashy quirks. like all people, he fell in love. however, he grew distant and cold towards his wife not long after michael was born. he has a great dislike towards michael as a result but tries to make things work when out in public with them.

❝ it's not that i don't know how to cry. I just can't cry in front of other people. ❞

▸ ᴀ ᴘ ᴘ ᴇ ᴀ ʀ ᴀ ɴ ᴄ ᴇ ◂

基本情報

═════════

∥ ϙᴜɪʀᴋ ᴇɴʜᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇs.

their shoulders and upper back appears more or less defined as the result of their wings when they manifest.

∥ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴛʏᴘᴇ.

static p on youtube

∥ sᴋɪɴ ᴛᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇxɪᴏɴ.

fair toned with a porcelain-esque appearance. they are clean of acne for the most part and there is no signs of any facial hair (with the exception of eyebrows and eyelashes).

∥ ᴇʏᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏᴜʀ ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴀᴘᴇ.

michael has golden yellow doe eyes. their eyes have also been described as being doll-like, naturally round in shape.

∥ ғᴀᴄɪᴀʟ sʜᴀᴘᴇ.

they have well defined features. during their youth, michael had been described as looking like a real life angel which gradually evolved into them having the appearance of a greek god or statue. their overall facial shape is a heart.

∥ ɴᴏsᴇ sʜᴀᴘᴇ.

they have what is called a celestial nose shape which remains unaffected by the use of their quirk.

∥ ʟɪᴘ sʜᴀᴘᴇ.

a natural pink color that matches the faint blush that dusts their features from time to time. the shape of them overall is what could be considered wide.

∥ ʜᴀɪʀsᴛʏʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʟᴏᴜʀ.

pale blond hair that falls a bit past their shoulders, grazing their shoulder blades. the hair itself is naturally in loose waves and appears thicker than in actuality.

∥ ғᴀᴄɪᴀʟ ʜᴀɪʀ.

n/a

∥ ᴇᴀʀ sʜᴀᴘᴇ.

they have average sized ears that aren't physically affected by their quirk but their hearing is heightened during the period of which they have their wings out.

∥ ɴᴀɪʟ ᴄᴏɴᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ.

their nails are pristine and almost always clean, whether they have a clear coat or painted nails. however, they tend to get nervous or antsy at times which result in them biting at their thumbnails.

∥ ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴛʏᴘᴇ.

ectomorph

∥ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴍᴀʀᴋs ᴏʀ sᴄᴀʀʀɪɴɢ.

they have a few freckles dotted about their figure, most of them being located on their shoulders and stomach.

∥ ᴘɪᴇʀᴄɪɴɢs ᴏʀ ɪɴᴋ.

they have no piercings or tattoos but michael always enjoys joking about having a tramp stamp and willing to 'prove it'

∥ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɴᴏᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇs.

n/a

▸ ᴛ ʀ ᴀ ɪ ᴛ s ◂

特徴

═════════

∥ ʟɪᴋᴇs.

they enjoy the energy that comes with social events and being around other people. michael is also seen frequenting local thrift shops and anything vintage.

∥ ᴅɪsʟɪᴋᴇs.

michael despises having to sit still and any quiet places. they also dislike anything too frilly or poofy. that and the feeling of velvet.

∥ ʜᴀʙɪᴛs.

they bite their thumbnails when nervous or antsy. michael also has the tendency to tug at their sleeves, hair, or hands when talking or standing.

∥ ᴘᴇᴛ ᴘᴇᴇᴠᴇs.

disorganized spaces and when people completely miss the trash or recycling bin.

∥ ᴄᴏʟᴏᴜʀ sᴄʜᴇᴍᴇs.

warm colors, golden or toasted. primarily yellows, oranges, and browns. also a soft, pastel blue, kind of like the sky.

∥ ᴀᴇsᴛʜᴇᴛɪᴄs.

generally the 50s or 90s when talking about eras. fragrances would be the air when it's about to rain or warm blankets and sheets. lilies and sunflowers would best suit them.

∥ ғᴇᴀʀs.

the future, actually sitting down and thinking about what they would be like a year from now, two or five, maybe a decade from now. those thoughts never end in a purely positive way so they tend to push them away as much as possible.

∥ ᴘʜᴏʙɪᴀ·s.

the fear of love (or falling in love) phobia is known as philophobia. The word originates from greek “filos” which means 'loving or beloved'. individuals who suffer from this phobia fear romantic love or forming emotional attachments of any sort.

∥ ᴅɪsᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛs.

the feeling of velvet or the general feeling of suffocating in awkward situations.

∥ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛs.

touch. whether it be the brief brush of a hand or a full on bear hug, michael needs physical contact.

∥ ᴅᴇsɪʀᴇs.

stability in an emotional sense. michael needs the reassurance that their friends and loved ones are with them for the right reasons. they yearn for as much physical contact as possible.

❝ when I say I am okay, i expect someone to take one good look at me...and realize i'm not. ❞

▸ ϙ ᴜ ɪ ʀ ᴋ ᴅ ᴇ ᴛ ᴀ ɪ ʟ s ◂

詳細

═════════

∥ ϙᴜɪʀᴋ ɴᴀᴍᴇ.

owl wings

∥ ʜᴇʀᴏ ᴏʀ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ ɴᴀᴍᴇ.

the archangel hero : icarus

there's nothing too fancy about the reasoning behind the name. the greek story their heri name is reference to tells the story of the son of daedalus who to escape imprisonment flies by means of artificial wings but falls into the sea and drowns when the wax of his wings melts as he flies too near the sun.

∥ ϙᴜɪʀᴋ ᴛʏᴘᴇ.

transformation

∥ ϙᴜɪʀᴋ ʀᴀɴɢᴇ.

close to mid-range

∥ ᴀɢᴇ ᴀᴛᴛᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴡ.

michael was roughly four (4) years of age when their quirk manifested. they were in their backyard with their aunt, who was tossing them up into the air 'like a bird'. they kept making various bird noises as a joke when a pair of owl wings sprouted from their shoulder blades. both michael and their aunt were startled but they were also excited to 'actually be a bird'.

∥ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴜsᴇʀs.

their mother has a set of dove wings and hawks has a similar quirk but the difference being that michael's wings aren't connected to them via their mind/telepathy and they are unable to 'fly'.

∥ ᴇxᴘʟᴀɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ/ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ϙᴜɪʀᴋ.

the user is able to manifest a pair of owl wings near their shoulder blades that spread out and covers their arms in an almost shield when brought together. the user must also wait from anywhere to twenty-five (25) seconds to a full minute for the wings to fully form and spread out.

∥ ϙᴜɪʀᴋ sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs.

they are able to slow their fall by spreading out their arms and perform a sort of gliding action.

∥ ϙᴜɪʀᴋ ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs.

michael's wings aren't strong enough to grant them the ability to fly. there is the possibility of flight in the future with more training.

∥ ᴅʀᴀᴡʙᴀᴄᴋs ᴀɴᴅ ʟɪᴍɪᴛs.

if the user is drenched/soaked with the wings present, they will be unable to retract them until dried off. as previously stated, the user is unable to fly but can glide to lessen their fall.

∥ ᴄᴏsᴛᴜᴍᴇ.

∥ sᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟɪsᴇᴅ ᴇϙᴜɪᴘᴍᴇɴᴛ.

the material that covers michael's shirt/top is made with special fabric that allows their wings to manifest without ripping or tearing.

∥ ᴄᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ sᴛʏʟᴇ.

they have a mixed combat style which fluctuates between offense and defense depending on the current situation. their years of taking ballet classes during their childhood helps as well in terms of agility and flexibility. to describe their actual way of combat would be a combination of dance (ballet and breakdancing being the main inspiration) and martial arts.

∥ sᴛᴀɢᴇs.

not necessarily unless you count the minute or so it takes for the wings to fully form.

∥ ʙᴇɢɪɴɴᴇʀs ᴍᴏᴠᴇsᴇᴛ.

the user is able to summon their wings as well as put them away.

∥ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ ᴍᴏᴠᴇsᴇᴛ.

they are now able to hover in place roughly two (2) feet or about sixty (60) centimeters off the ground for at most fifteen (15) minutes. if michael was to leap off of something a bit taller then they could hover at a higher height but for half the time.

they are currently working on flight but have succeeded at gliding from building to building with a running start.

∥ ʟɪɴᴇ ᴏғ ᴡᴏʀᴋ.

michael knows that not everyone can be a hero but they sure as hell can try and achieve it. they are in class 1B at ua but also is fine with becoming a sidekick.

#bnha oc #oc info #ooc post

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crayonwriting · 5 years

Text

Irreplaceable You: 4 (Bucky Barnes)

Summary: Unexpectedly diagnosed with a terminal disease, you embark on a mission to find a new love for your fiancé and childhood best friend, Bucky Barnes.

Disclaimer: This story is a rewrite of the movie of the same title on Netflix. Directed by Stephanie Laing and written by Bess Wohl. Go check it out!

— CHAPTER FOUR —

Six Weeks Later...

You were alone in the apartment, still recovering from your surgery. You had the masses removed in an attempt to rid and cure yourself of cancer. The doctors said it was a long shot but it was worth the try.

You lay on the soft carpeted floor in just your sweats and a hoodie you borrowed—more like stole—from Bucky’s wardrobe. They say after surgery you're going to experience some minor discomfort. It's Stage 4 cancer. Nothing is minor. Nothing is comfortable.

You were curled up in a fetal position, biting your lips in an attempt to ease the numbing pain and soreness you were currently feeling. Panic! At The Disco was blasting through your earphones and you did your best to focus on that.

—

Bucky sat by his desk, his hand covering his face as he tried to dry up the tears in his eyes that were threatening to fall. He shuddered lightly and scoffed to compose himself. He re-adjusted his glasses, reading his notes once again. He stood up in a firm manner and started writing on the whiteboard.

“So, let's, uhm, let's take another look at the proposed model for auto-associative memory and its constituent neural network.” He finished a diagram—rather slowly to his liking—and turned to his students. Like him, their minds were elsewhere: two students were staring out the window; some were doodling mindlessly on their desks or notebooks; others were already half-lidded and were seconds away from dreamland.

“Or not. Let's not and say we did. Class dismissed.” Bucky almost slammed the marker against his desk. He was out of it. He kept thinking about how you were alone at home and was probably in pain. He was worried about you. He always was. He hastily shoved his things in his messenger bag and rushed out of the classroom. His class followed soon after.

—

You tapped your foot to a silent melody against the white-tiled floor. You looked around the hospital waiting room clutching your coat and purse tight in your fists. Today was the first day of your chemotherapy and you were beyond scared. Luckily, your mom had accompanied you and has been coming back to and fro every other week to check up on you.

"Ms. Y/L/N?" The receptionist called out. You raised your hand automatically. You stood up and approached her desk. She smiled at you and handed you a piece of paper. “Please fill out this form and a nurse will come and assist you shortly.” You did as she told you and as soon as you signed at the bottom of the page, a nurse in a blue scrub suit approached you with a clipboard.

“Hi! My name’s Scott. How’s it going?” He held out his hand in greeting. Scott was tall, had hair that was a bit messy and a contagious smile. You shook his hand and mirrored his grin.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Y/N and this is my mother, Y/M/N.” He shook your mother’s hand and smiled to her too.

“I’m gonna be running your treatment suite. If you could please follow me.” He turned his back to you and started walking down the hall. You and your mother trailed after him.

“Uh, treatment suite?” You asked.

“Oh, yeah, don't get excited. It doesn't even have four walls.” He replied, nonchalantly. You looked at your mother and raised your eyebrow at her in question. Scott looked at you and smiled. He approached a room, two doors from the end of the hall and opened it. “You go ahead and grab a seat right there.” He pointed to a complicated-looking chair in the middle.

True to his word, your ‘suite’ didn’t really have four walls. The room was cut into small cubicles with thin, opaque, glass dividers—a chair in each one. You passed by an elderly man who has fallen asleep and a woman who had several snacks and books propped on her lap—you gave her a small, awkward smile when she looked up. Finally reaching an empty chair, you did as Scott said, putting your bag beside you on the floor. Your mother pulled up a chair and sat on your left.

“There, so you can relax.” He grabbed his own chair, pulling with him a small cart of what looked like needles and various bags of medicine. “For the next time, you're probably gonna want to bring your own pillow in from home. You're also gonna need your cell phone with headphones and a magazine.” He put on a pair of blue latex gloves and a matching face mask. “Some of these guys tend to hoard ‘em. You're gonna end up reading an old ripped up copy of Duck Enthusiast.”

“Oh. It's okay, I don't read…Duck Enthusiast.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, “You will. All right, feet up.” He pulled the lever on the right side of your chair, making a foot rest pop up, elevating your feet. “Yep, there you go.” He pulled down his mask to his chin and looked at you. “Okay, so uhm, before we start yes, you will feel like shit after this, but it's different for everybody.” You stared at him wide-eyed, thinking how he must’ve done this a thousand times being so cool and calm about it. Your mother opened her mouth, about to ask something but Scott raised his finger and said,

“And no, your hair isn't gonna fall out right away. And besides, it looks like you have plenty of it, so you're doing good. Uh, and if you need snacks, you got to bring them from home.” He finished and flashed the both of you another smile. “Any more questions?”

An old man in a fancy suit and tie, complete with shiny black shoes and a top hat to match passed by your cubicle, raising his hat in greeting to the three of you. He walked slowly until he was out of sight.

“I feel underdressed.” You said, amused by the old man.

“Oh, that guy?” Scott leaned over to look at the man. “Yeah, I don't know why he does that.” He looked up, putting his fingers to his chin in thinking. “I think he thinks it helps.” He pursed his lips.

“Does it?” Your mother asked, holding your hand tight in hers.

“I don't know. He's not dead yet, so it's got to be doing something, right?” Scott joked. He put his mask back on. “Well, shall we get started?”

—

You sipped your smoothie slowly as the elevator you were on rattled upwards. ‘Seventh floor of the Prime Tower on Baker Street’ your doctor instructed. During a check-up, he suggested joining a support group that could help with your emotional health. You rolled your eyes at him, not caring that he could see you. Dr. Kessler just sighed and wrote the address on paper ‘if you ever change your mind.’

You didn’t really want to go. The thought of sitting around in a circle with a bunch of people who also has cancer and talking about it doesn’t quite fit your idea of fun. And yet, here you were.

The elevator doors open to a clear room. A few art materials and empty easels sat on your right by the corner. On your far left, cabinets, drawers and a long island stood with rolls of cloth, string, pins and other sewing materials atop. In the middle was a group of what looked like six people, sat in a circle.

The man who was facing you, saw you immediately when you stepped out of the elevator. He was wearing a green shirt with a brown coat over it. His hair was peppered with a mix of gray and white. He looked to be the leader of the group.

“Hey.” He raised his hand to you. “Come on in. We're just getting started. Go grab yourself a hook and yarn.” He pointed to the island you saw earlier and went to it. As you passed by the group, you overheard one of them talking.

“Have you heard of Catholic yoga? It's a full Latin Mass with vinyasa yoga positions, and I come out…”

“You serious?” The man in the green shirt asked.

“Yeah! I feel like I'm in touch with the beyond. So, that's… that’s neat.”

“Whatever... Whatever works.”

You picked up a ball of blue yarn and a hook beside it before approaching the circle. You saw an empty chair amongst three of them who were huddled together.

“Last month? Twelve thousand dollars on treatments. Plus, I'm currently unemployed.” A girl with a shaved head and brown eyes stated, looking down at her clasped hands.

“Cancer is your job.” Another man, this time with dark hair and eyes. He seemed to have an accent too. He was pale and was sitting rather poshly on the small plastic chair.

“Well, I'd rather be unemployed.” The red-headed girl argued.

“I wouldn't sit there.” You turned to the man beside you. He looked like he was in his late thirties and he had well maintained facial hair. “This is the VIP Section.”

“Yeah, we don't listen to the pretenders.” The Posh Man said, gesturing to the other three members of the small group.

“We don't listen to each other, really.” Facial Hair Man beside you spoke.

“Hey, guys, c’mon. Make her feel welcome.” Green Shirt Man said. The Posh Man moved his seat so that you all were sitting in a complete circle.

“Yeah, come on. Only kidding.” Facial Hair Man adjusted his own seat beside you so that you could come closer to the circle.

“Welcome to the last group you ever wanted to be a member of. What's your name?” Green Shirt Man asked.

You exhaled loudly and wiggled uncomfortably on your chair. You brushed a stray hair away from your face and said your name.

“Hi Y/N.” The girl in front of you whispered. She had long red hair with a charming smile. Green Shirt Man, who was sat beside her on her left nodded and smiled at you too. Everyone was looking at you which made you feel a little self-conscious.

“But, you know, don't get attached.” You added, chuckling half-heartedly. Green Shirt Man raised his eyebrows and nodded

“Got it.” He answered. He looked at the person on the left of the red-haired woman. “You okay, there, Thor?”

Thor, had blonde shoulder-length blonde hair—which was tied up in a low bun—and steel blue eyes. He was staring at you with a sad smile on his face and eyes spilling with tears. His grip on his yarn work was tight.

“She's so pretty.” He whispered.

“You don't even know her.” Posh Man bickered. Thor’s expression immediately changed into an annoyed one.

"Well, I... I like the name Y/N." Thor tried to defend.

"Okay, let's…all let Thor have his process.” Green Shirt Man then turned to you, his hand placed on his chest. "Let me introduce myself. My name's Bruce. Bruce Banner."

“My name’s Wanda.” The red-headed girl in front of you smiled and gave a small wave.

“You already know, Thor.” Bruce gestured to Thor, who was still teary-eyed smiling at you. “Beside him is his brother, Loki.” He referred to Posh Man. “This is Nebula.” The bald girl. “And this is—”

“Tony.” The guy beside you held out his hand and you carefully shook it. Tony pointed his finger to the bundle of yarn in your lap. “Here. Just find the end.” He lifted the ball into his hands and handed you the end of it. You awkwardly took it and did your best to ‘knit.’

“Thor, that's so pretty. What is that?” Wanda asked, pointing to what Thor was working on. The man smiled lovingly at his work.

"Well, it's gonna be a teddy bear." He answered

"Ah. Is that for your nephew?" Wanda questioned, crossing her legs.

"No. It's, uh, for me to be buried with." Thor smiled. Wanda's eyes grew a bit wide before biting her bottom lip and glanced to the rest of the group—mostly you and Bruce.

"Ah. Well, I like that you're thinking ahead. Smart man." Wanda carefully nudged Thor with her elbow, chuckling slightly. She shifted her position so that she was facing the inside of the circle.

"Hey, Tony, your doily is really coming along." Bruce praised.

"Yeah. I... I wish I could say the same for the rest of my life." You looked down at your hands as Tony continued. "Every morning I wake up, new lease on life, lasts about 20 minutes." he paused for a moment, eyeing each one of us. "Then I remember…the Mets suck, there's construction on the F train, I got a leak in my roof that's gonna cost $3,500. Apparently, I still sweat the small stuff." He shrugged, leaning back on his chair. He crossed his arms over his chest and sat tall.

"Hard not to." Bruce agreed, nodding solemnly. "How is Pepper holding up?" Tony's lips lifted into a small smile.

"She's good. There's a new hawk in Central Park. Every morning we go out there and watch the little guy. I hope she keeps up the bird-watching after I'm gone. You know…," Tony shrugged once again. "With whatever new guy she's banging." Tony bit his lip and thrusted his hips playfully.

You widen your eyes at how nonchalant he is about the idea of his partner, ‘banging’ someone else. The rest of the group just laughed and chuckled for a bit like it was a normal thing. How could they think like that?

"Welcome to group." Wanda said, seeing your uneasy expression. "It's the way we roll." She motioned with her hands, trying to make you relax which really did nothing.

"We have fun." Tony piped up beside you, softly patting his hand against your shoulder. You looked at him and to the rest of the group who were all staring at you, waiting for your reaction. You laughed uncomfortably

"Yeah, yeah. That's cool." You managed to blurt out.

—

Tags: @blueskiesbleakeyes / @justanothergirlwithdemons / @butteryoptimisticpeanut / @likes-to-smell-books / @hennessy0274-blog

#b writes #irreplaceable you series #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader

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